


La Muerta

by BekahRose



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Community: Reel Torchwood, F/M, Films, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-26
Updated: 2013-02-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 16:31:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekahRose/pseuds/BekahRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can you move on, when the person you loved the most refuses to let you go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, many, many thanks to my betas: Kel, Lou and John. You three put up with a lot of crap and you still managed to cheer-lead me through the worst of it. Any further mistakes are mine. 
> 
> You don’t need to have seen the film to understand the basic principles, but, if you’re after something a little sad and a little heart-warming and would love to hear Alan Rickman recite Neruda (even if it is with a really bad accent), then watch it.
> 
> The conversations that take place between Ianto and Gwen have been drawn from my own recent experiences with a bereavement counsellor and I don't pretend to know or assume that all experiences are the same. I make no claim to being fluent in Spanish or French. I had to dig through ten-year-old High School notes and assignments to find a similar letter. I received a 'B+' on the assignment though, so it can't have been too dreadful, and I had to pick my mum’s (and dad’s) brain for what little French I did use. I sincerely hope I didn’t butcher it too badly.

** La  ** ** Muerta **

 

** Chapter I **

 

“I hear her sometimes,” he said, voice soft; almost as though he were ashamed. “I don’t mean like… listening to her voice on the answering machine or on videos or things like that.” Ianto clarified, chancing a look at the therapist and wondered – not for the first time – just what she was _really_ thinking. “Quite banal really,” he said, letting his gaze wander around the office. “Reminding me when to take the rubbish out, bitching about the house.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “Sometimes it’s almost like she’s set up a running commentary in my head… can be quite annoying really.”

 

“And how does that make you feel?” The therapist looked up from her notepad.

 

“Annoyed sometimes,” Ianto sighed before continuing. “Most times just lonely… hollow.”

 

The therapist – Gwen, she’d told him to call her Gwen, not Doctor Williams, not Doctor, just Gwen; and talk to her like she was a friend, that thought made him give a mental snort – scribbled on her notepad, “Do you… have you ever thought of talking back to her?”

 

Ianto looked at her, eyebrow quirking slightly. “All the time, Lisa can – could – be quite a stroppy cow if you ignored her.”

 

Gwen gave Ianto a sheepish grin. “Can’t we all,” she said before looking at the clock on the far wall. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have this week.” She offered Ianto an apologetic smile, setting aside her notepad and rising from her chair. “But, you’re making great progress, same time next week?”

 

Ianto nodded and rose from the settee, “Thanks Gwen.”

 

“My pleasure, Ianto,” she said, following him out to reception. “Mickey,” she called out, already turning to her next patient.

 

As Ianto headed back to work, he wondered if he really were making progress, or if that was something grief counsellors were scripted to say at the end of each session, because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

 

~

 

Ianto watched his sister jog down the steps to her car from behind the closed door; the glass panelling making her look a little wobbly around the edges. A rough sigh escaped his lips and he let his head fall forward, enjoying the feeling of the cool glass against his forehead. It was so bloody hot inside the house! His cheeks felt flush and he loosened his tie, grumbling about bloody kids and touching things they know they shouldn’t. Another sigh and he pushed away from the door, heading back into the living room to flop onto the settee; the cleaning could wait until after he’d had at least five minutes peace.

 

It had been a long day; made even longer by the fact that his sister, niece and nephew had been waiting for him when he got home from work. The only small mercy had been when Rhi had told David and Mica to get the tureen and fresh loaf from the car.

 

“Cawl and fresh bread,” Rhi had said by way of explanation as she waited for him to unlock the front door. “Don’t worry, I used Mam’s recipe; followed it to the letter.”

The soup had been great and the conversation had only been a little stilted; but Ianto had come to expect that in the last few months. Overall, it had started out as an enjoyable evening, until Mica – in her eight-year-old naivety – had come out to the living room in a pair of very expensive, much too large Jimmy Choos; _that_ was when it had all gone downhill very quickly.  Without thinking, Ianto had scolded Mica, firstly for going into his bedroom without permission, and then for going through Lisa’s belongings.

 

He felt a lump form in his throat as he remembered how Rhi had reached for her daughter who was obviously confused and scared by her Uncle’s outburst; even David had managed to look up from his game, eyes wide with surprise. Ianto had apologised, the anger dissipating at the looks on their faces. Bending, he picked up the shoes in question, cradling them to his chest.

 

“Sorry Mica,” he had said softly. “It’s just… Lisa paid a lot for these, she’d be livid if I let you play dress ups in them.” He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder before trying to distance himself from the situation altogether.

He closed his eyes as he remembered the look he’d gotten from all three of them; that pitying look, the one that told him Lisa was dead and had been for six months. ‘One hundred and sixty-six days, seventeen hours, forty-three minutes and four, five, six seconds,’ he thought to himself.

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ianto looked around the living room; not a lot had happened in the last one hundred and sixty-six days; the piano was still jammed up against the far wall, a partially unpacked box of photos sat on the bench and Lisa’s coffee cup was still resting where she’d left it. Ianto eyed the orange porcelain and from where he sat, he could see the dark red stain from her lipstick, smudged around the rim. The water that had originally filled it had long since been used to water the bedraggled looking fern that sat on one of the near-by shelves, Lisa’s housewarming present to him… squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stave off memories he wasn’t quite up to dealing with; Ianto pushed up from the settee and carried the dinner dishes into the kitchen. Silence descended on the house, even the sounds of local traffic didn’t seem to penetrate the quiet stillness as he stacked the dishwasher. From where he was standing in the kitchen, Ianto could see the half unpacked boxes that littered most of the dining room and it was in here, on his way to bed, that Ianto encountered his first truly unwelcome guest.

 

Black beady eyes looked out at him from the top of an open box before scuttling away, faster than Ianto could react. A shudder worked its way down his spine as he nudged the box labelled ‘Ianto’s Books and Stuff’ in Lisa’s loopy scrawl, checking to see if there were any more lying in wait. When no more darted from the safety of the box, Ianto reached into another partially unpacked box, removed a book and headed to bed; making a mental note to call an exterminator in the morning.

 

Lisa had hated this place; one of the reasons he’d kept the purchase of it a secret from everyone. When he’d bought her with him to view the property, her disdain had been all too clear from the moment he’d pointed out the rusting iron gate. Ianto, on the other hand, had seen nothing but potential; and if he purchased the property, there would be enough left over for the few renovations it needed, that he would have enough left over  for a holiday for the two of them – some place warm and romantic.

 

Stripping out of his suit and brushing his teeth, he grinned to himself as Lisa – for he couldn’t bear to think of… whatever it was he was experiencing, as anything _but_ Lisa – began her nightly litany of all that was wrong with the house, his job, his sister, her children and Ianto’s hair.

 

_“Rats, Ianto!”_ He smirked as he pictured the look on her face.

 

“I’ve always wanted a pet,” he muttered, flushing slightly as he realised he’d spoken out loud.

 

“ _They’re disgusting! Not to mention more than likely full of disease,_ ” As he turned off the bathroom light, the Lisa-voice in his head continued. “ _You’re due for a haircut too, short-back and sides. You’re starting to look like a real chav._ ”

 

Ianto unconsciously ran his hand through his hair, he didn’t mind his hair with a bit of length; it was good, new… _different_ , he nodded in agreement with her anyway. “One more thing to add to the list then,” a wave of exhaustion washed over him as he sat on the edge of his bed. Surveying his room, he could see the empty space where Mica had gotten Lisa’s high-heels from; the red satin jacket she’d been wearing the night before… was still hanging over the partially open wardrobe door.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before jumping up and making his way back to the living room. Scooping up Lisa’s shoes, he returned to the bedroom and set them down where Mica had taken them from, before finally, he flung the covers back and settled into bed. Reaching for his book, he spied the picture of Lisa he’d taking to leaving by the bed; his fingers caressed the frame as his thumb traced the image of her cheek, “Night Lisa,” he whispered, leaving his book and flicking off the light.

 

Ianto wasn’t sure how long he’d lain there, replaying the day’s events over in his head. From the moment he’d let John in to begin work on the kitchen cupboards, to the meeting with the rat in the dining room, he went over every point of contact he’d had with another person, searching for… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to remember; more than likely their expressions. Everyone seemed to look at him these days with the same sad expression; even John’s attempts at flirting barely masked the pity in his eyes whenever he looked at Ianto. He huffed out a breath, wondering when people would start to look at him normally again, before rolling onto his side and letting sleep drag him down into that place where dreams and reality slowly bled together.

 

~

 

A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as a light weight crept up his leg, past his hip and across his stomach before settling on his chest.

 

“Mmm, Lis, tired.” He mumbled, flinging his arm out to her side of the bed… her _empty_ , side of the bed. Ianto’s eyes sprung open, a moment of anguish darkening his features as reality rushed back in, jerking him awake completely. Craning his neck, his eyes widened as he came nose to nose with the rat from the dining room, he hoped it was the rat from the dining room. He felt his heart speed up and everything David and Mica had ever told him about rats – pet rats, rats from a pet shop, he mentally corrected – was reduced to ‘ _DISEASE RIDDEN VERMIN_ ’ in neon flashing letters in his mind’s eye. It was while he was trying to shoo the one on his chest away that he felt something scuttle past his head and if he screamed while trying to untangle himself from the bedding, well… no one was going to hear him, and if they did, he’d just blame the telly.

 

Grabbing a blanket from the closet, Ianto made his way back down to the living room and tossed his blanket at the settee, before moving straight back into the kitchen. His heart had, at some point since fleeing his bedroom, stopped trying to escape his chest via his throat, and for that he was grateful. He busied himself grabbing the bottle of milk from the fridge and taking a long drink, not bothering with a glass. By the light of the fridge, he scribbled himself a quick note; a reminder to call an exterminator as soon as he woke up. With another pull on the bottle of milk, he put it back on the shelf, snatched up his mobile phone from where it had been left to charge overnight, and headed back into the living room. Stretching out on the couch, Ianto flicked the blanket over his head, closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep, carefully trying to avoid thinking of what had woken him in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter II **

 

Ianto woke slowly, mumbling to himself. Something was buzzing inside his head, which in turn was making the right side of his face vibrate. Turning his head, he pulled the blanket around him tighter in an attempt to block out the persistent noise; instead, the vibrations moved to his left cheek. A growl of frustration escaped his throat and he moved to look around the room; promptly falling from the edge of the sofa and onto the thread-bare carpet.

 

He groaned and sat up, evaluating the situation at hand; his face twisting into a grimace as he recalled the reason for his impromptu stay on the sofa. “Fucking rats,” he muttered, pushing up from the floor. Staring down at the couch, he pondered the possibility of there being just the two.

 

“ _It might start with just two_ ,” the ever-present Lisa-voice whispered in his head, “ _but rats are like rabbits… breeding like nobody’s business_.”

 

“Oh God,” Ianto cringed, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of having a home full of the vermin. Before he could go off into what he was now considering dangerous, rat-infested territory, his mobile phone shrilled at him from where it had become wedged on the settee; between the arm and the back cushions. ‘Right, vibrating face…’ he thought, picking it up and squinting at the screen. He sighed when he saw the name on the screen, sorely tempted to just let it switch over to voicemail. Closing his eyes, he answered the phone trying to keep the wariness from his voice.

 

“Morning Rhi,” he said, forcing his face into a facsimile of a smile. He listened as she nattered away, apologising for the night before. “It’s fine,” he said moving into the kitchen and switching on the percolator. “Really Rhiannon, I just… I’m sorry _I_ over-reacted. Tell Mica…” he was cut off as Rhiannon forged ahead. Biting his lip, he moved back through the house and headed upstairs for the bathroom. “Honestly Rhi,” he said, fiddling with the taps to the shower that hung over the bathtub. “It’s _fine_. Tell Mica that I’ll… I dunno, I’ll take her to the cinema or something to make up for it.” He winced and moved the phone away from his ear as her voice rose. Another bone-deep sigh passed his lips as he waited for his older sister to stop for breath.

 

“Rhi,” he began when it appeared she wouldn’t be letting up any time soon. “RHIANNON!” Ianto pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look,” he started again, “I’ll be home early today, around two. Why don’t --” he sighed as Rhiannon cut him off again. “Yeah, bring Mica and I’ll talk to her then… Yeah,” he gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Love you too, Rhi, see you then.” He hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bathroom counter. Shucking his boxers, he stepped under the now-steaming shower.

 

“ _My Nan would say she could talk six feet under water with a mouth full of marbles_.” The Lisa-voice whispered. Closing his eyes, Ianto bent his head and braced himself against the wall, letting the hot water stream down over his head in an attempt to ease some of the tension in his neck and shoulders. The settee was comfy enough to sit on, curled up in a corner of it with a good book or a film, but it was most definitely, not designed from someone six-feet tall to sleep on comfortably.

 

It was quiet in the shower and for the briefest moment, he pondered the possibility of staying in there the whole day; it seemed the only time the Lisa-voice was quiet was when the water beat down on his head or back, drowning out everything except for the rush of his own blood and the occasional juddering from the pipes. It was the only time he was allowed his own thoughts, untainted by Lisa, which amused him a little; the bathroom was the only part of the flat that she’d actually approved of.

 

Just as the water was starting to cool, Ianto thought he could hear a banging that had nothing to do with juddering pipes. He turned off the shower and sure enough, he could hear someone banging away at the front door. Clambering out of the tub, he reached for a towel to wrap around his waist. Snatching up his phone, he made his way to the front door. “Coming! I’m bloody coming!” He tucked the end of the towel in at his hip and ran a hand through his still dripping hair. “Yes?” He asked, flinging the door open.

 

“No need to get dressed on my account, Eye Candy.”

 

Ianto smiled and shook his head, stepping back to let the other man in. “Sorry John,” he said, turning back towards the kitchen, “I was in the shower. You know where the kitchen is, coffee’s on, won’t be a moment.” Ianto made his way back to his room, shutting the door before the handy-man could say anything else. He dried off as quickly as he could, throwing open his side of the wardrobe to remove a fresh suit, shirt and tie.

 

He got dressed quickly – efficiently, his boss would say – before heading back out to the kitchen. John had already begun the process of removing the cupboard doors, and hopefully, by the time he was ready to leave for work, Ianto would be one step closer to having a kitchen he could move freely around in, without worrying if a cupboard door would fall off its hinges and hurt him… again.

 

“The suit’s good Ianto,” John began as he entered the kitchen, carrying several pieces of timber. “But the towel…” he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows and leering at the younger man.

 

Ianto blushed slightly and rolled his eyes. John Hart was the neighbourhood Mr Fix-it. He’d come highly recommended by the estate agent and several of the neighbours; he was also the neighbourhood lothario.

 

“ _Flirts with anything on two legs_ ,” Mrs Cooper from two houses away had told Ianto when she’d seen him leave the other man’s stoop with a business card. “ _Shameful the way he carries on sometimes, he should settle down instead of running around with every Jack and Jill that takes his fancy_ ,” she’d said, clucking her tongue. “ _But mind, he’s very good at what he does_.”

 

Ianto lifted the pot of coffee from its warming plate. “Coffee?” he asked, watching as John set up a work space in the dining room before grabbing two cups from an open cupboard and pouring as John nodded.

 

“I noticed the other day when I was taking measurements that you’ve got rats,” John said, accepting the cup of coffee with a nod towards the note Ianto had written the night before. “I know a guy; I could give him a call, see if he could squeeze you in?”

 

Ianto shuddered as he remembered the rats in his bedroom. “That would be great, thanks.” He took a sip of his coffee as he watched John prepare a piece of timber. He’d only been back in Cardiff for seven months and he was grateful that the neighbourhood had seemingly welcomed him with open arms. He’d been in London so long, he’d almost been afraid to accept the position with the A.R Davies International School when it had been offered. The last time he’d been in Wales, he’d been an awkward and disgruntled teenager, eager to make his own way in the world; when he left, he’d never looked back; grateful to be leaving everything behind.

 

John watched Ianto carefully as he measured and marked timber, occasionally stopping to have a mouthful of coffee. A lot had changed for the younger man in the last several months and the death of his Lisa – a beautiful woman, John acknowledged silently, one he’d only met a handful of times – had taken its toll. Gone was the easy-going, excitable young man who had knocked on John’s door the week he’d moved in, asking for a business card because the neighbours had said he was the go-to man for repairs and small carpentry jobs around the home and in his place was a serious and quiet shadow; he’d stopped making small talk with the neighbours, stopped whistling as he left for work. A small sigh escaped John’s lips as he took a final sip of his coffee. “I won’t be able to finish the job completely today,” he said, eyeing Ianto carefully. “Several other smaller jobs that I have to take care of, but I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up. That okay with you?”

 

Ianto nodded, putting his cup in the dishwasher. “That’s fine. I should be home just after twelve, so if you can get a hold of that rat guy and he can squeeze me in, I’ll be home then.”

 

John nodded. “I’ll leave this stuff here, save me having to cart it back and forth.” He motioned towards the cupboards before continuing. “It won’t take me too long to put the new doors on, but the new counter tops…” he trailed off and looked pointedly at the coffee maker, “You’ll have to clear everything off of them, but I’ve got a mate coming with me tomorrow to help fit the new ones and fix the patch of floor in front of the sink.”

 

Ianto looked down at the three broken boards to the right of where he was standing. “Not a problem,” he said, shifting to the left. “I’m just grateful it’s those three and you don’t have to gut the entire kitchen to get at them.”

 

John grinned. “Right, well, I best be off, Mrs Cooper’s got a rail that needs installing, I’ll leave the timber, but all the tools…” He motioned to the sections of lumber he’d already marked and set aside for cutting. “I saw that sister of yours leaving last night, wouldn’t want the kids hurting themselves on any of the tools if they came by again.”

 

Ianto agreed and drained the last of his coffee, setting the empty cup in the dishwasher beside John’s. “Not a problem,” he said, filling the soap dispenser and turning it on. He’d have no time to drag out the trip home from work today, not if John managed to contact his pest control friend and definitely not if Rhiannon was going to be bringing Mica over. He followed John out, grabbing his satchel bag from where it sat by the front door.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” John clapped Ianto on the shoulder as he was ushered out the front and down to the gate, “Mornin’ Mrs Cooper!” He called out, waving to the elderly woman who had just stepped out into the morning sun.

 

“Yep,” Ianto said, locking up. He looked up and gave his elderly neighbour a tight-lipped smile and brisk nod before turning and heading to the garage. Any other day, he’d relish the walk to work and the subsequent walk home, but not today. He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, breathing a sigh of relief as the engine kicked over. As he backed down the driveway, John appeared and pulled the garage door down. Waving his thanks, he pulled out onto the street and began the short drive to work.


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter III **

****

Ianto made his way to the office he shared with two others and for the first time since driving away from his house this morning, felt his shoulders relax as the constant Lisa-voice in his head grew silent. There were times where he didn’t mind it and in fact, enjoyed it; like she hadn’t really left him, but then there were times – like this morning – where he’d needed to focus on work, running through mental check-lists of what he had to do today, and which of his clients were scheduled for lessons, exams and even the odd interview prep. He shook his head; the new offices could not be ready soon enough. The name on the door had slowly fallen off over time, leaving only a handful of letters ‘T – A. R. D – I – S: Li-g---t-cs’. He opened the door to his shared office and couldn’t help but smile at the post-it stuck to the top corner of the window, declaring ‘TGIF!’

 

“Ah! Ianto!” A voice called out from behind a desk piled high with files. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

 

“I’m not doing it.” Ianto stated, setting his briefcase down on his own overflowing desk. He sighed as a pile of folders slithered to the floor. “We really need to get the new offices organised, this is getting ridiculous.”

 

A head of messy brown hair appeared at the desk across from his. “I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me… its cosy… Aha!”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes and set about trying to organise his desk as much as possible. John Smith was a fantastic boss and had slowly become a good friend since Ianto’s transfer from the Embassy in London. Sure it had been exciting in London translating for diplomats and the money had been brilliant, but after the bombings on the tube and the terrorist attack on a government building in Canary Wharf and Ianto having been so very close to being a victim of said attack; he’d decided to take the position with the A. R. Davies International School. His pay had gone up a little – not a great deal, but enough – and he was now an associate for the linguistics department. It wasn’t a big promotion and he still had to share his office, but it was what he’d needed and it had felt good to return home… to show Lisa where he’d grown up.

 

“Morning!” A voice sang out as the door to the office opened.

 

“Morning, Tosh.” Ianto smiled as the third and final member of their little team arrived.

 

“Morning, Toshiko.” John smiled at her as the door closed before turning to Ianto, brandishing a postcard. “The mail arrived yesterday,” he began, looking at Ianto expectantly.

 

“No.” Ianto said, transferring a handful of files to his briefcase, clearing a little space on his desk.

 

“Oh come on!” John’s voice took a wheedling quality that had Tosh snickering as she settled at her desk.

 

“No. You should be far enough along with your Spanish now that I don’t have to translate for you.” Ianto raised an eyebrow at the other man, folding his arms across his chest when John frowned.

 

“If you received a postcard written entirely in French, German or Greek, I’d read it out to you.” The other man said, reminding Ianto of a sulking child.

 

Ianto rolled his eyes and held his hand out for the postcard. “Just how do you plan on ever having a conversation with Martha, if you can’t even be bothered learning to speak the same language?”

 

“Ah, but what’s the point in working with someone who speaks Spanish, if they can’t translate for you – pro-bono – every once in a while?” John grinned as he handed over the postcard. “Besides, she only writes in Spanish when she’s with Rose and that man, she speaks English when she’s with me.”

 

“And yet I’ve never once heard you ask Toshiko to translate something for you, pro-bono.” Ianto raised an eyebrow slightly, eyeing the other man.

 

“That’s because my dear Ianto, I don’t receive postcards from my daughter written in Japanese, Mandarin or Tagalog.” John’s grin was wide as he shoved a pile of papers across his desk to perch on the edge.

 

Sighing, Ianto looked at the postcard and cast a quick look at John and shook his head, “Estimado Papá… Dear Daddy… yo soy fino. ¿Cómo es usted?... I am fine, how are you – you know, we are going to sit down one day, and I’m going to make you learn Spanish, even if I have to tie you to the chair – Ha estado muy caliente … it has been very hot and mum and Harold took me to the beach today – So, Rose is obviously still with him then? – y Harold me enseña cómo nadar… Harold is teaching me how to swim. He says that if I’m very good, they’ll bring me back to the beach on the weekend – How big of him – ¿Hace frío en Cardiff? La momia… is it cold in Cardiff? Mum says it rains all the time. Love, Martha.” Ianto smiled sadly at his friend and handed the postcard back.

 

“At least she sounds like she’s having fun?” Tosh offered as she moved a stack of files to a filing drawer. “That has to account for something, right?”

 

John tacked the postcard to the wall behind his desk, the picture of the bright blue sea meeting a clear blue sky adding to the dozen or so that were already there. “Oh yes,” he muttered, sitting back down at his desk. “Having a grand old time… with Harold.”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes again, they had this argument every time a postcard arrived, and sat back down to shuffle through his own stack of files. “Nothing’s stopping you from going out there and bringing her back here.”

 

“I’m sorry,” John said, lifting up a folder, checking it and putting it back down. “You haven’t met my ex-wife, have you?”

 

“Here we go.” Tosh whispered, shaking her head and attempting to bury herself under the paperwork littering her desk.

 

“Lovely girl, my Rose… excited by life, wanted to take the world by storm. And then when I accepted the position here so we could settle down and start a family, it just wasn’t exciting enough.” He shook his head sadly. “Still, can’t be too angry, not her fault I was rubbish at ‘Domestic’.” John said, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway!” He clapped his hands together and motioned to the pile on his left. “Today’s appointments, Ianto has a one-on-one with Lucia, should take you right up until lunch. Toshiko, Doctor Tanizaki should be here mid-morning, he’s going to need you to accompany him to the University, the interpreter called in sick this morning.” John missed the look Ianto and Tosh shared over that news. “And I have several one-on-ones of my own to deal with. I’ll be operating out of the office most of the day, so if either of you need me…”

 

“We’ll know where to find you.” Tosh said, flicking through a series of folders before setting them aside.

 

“I’m going to take some of these papers home with me,” Ianto said, sliding another stack of files into his briefcase. “Give me something to do over the weekend while the last of the renovations are done.” He thought briefly about telling them about the rats, but decided against it. If he ever wanted to invite them over for dinner, he imagined it would go down far more pleasantly if they didn’t have to worry about rats and where they’d been. He shuddered a little bit as he realised that he’d most likely spend the weekend running every single dish he owned, through the dishwasher on its hottest setting… twice.

 

“Must be glad it’s almost finished.” Tosh said, smiling at her now empty workspace.

 

“You’ve no idea,” he scooped up the files that had fallen to the floor when he’d first arrived and stacked them neatly. No way would he be coming back on Monday morning to a desk overflowing with paperwork. “Might even be able to finish unpacking,” he said, looking at Tosh and the way she averted her gaze momentarily. “It’s been a right pain in the arse, moving things only to have to move them again because they’re in the way.”  He picked up a file marked ‘Lucia Araya’ and opened it in an attempt to avoid Tosh’s sad gaze. She and John hadn’t really had a chance to get to know Lisa. They’d met her of course when he’d come to show her the school and his office and they knew what she meant to Ianto, knew about the ring that was now sitting in the top drawer of his desk, but they hadn’t really _known_ her.

 

“You’ll have to have us ‘round for dinner one night, Ianto.” John said as he started flipping through a series of folders. “Have a proper house warming. I’ll even buy you a cactus.” He looked up then as someone knocked on the door. “Ah, Buenos dias, Senorita Araya!”

 

A young woman, only a few years older than Ianto, opened the door, smiling shyly and shaking her head. “English, Doctor Smith, English!” She looked around the office and smiled at Ianto and Tosh, “Good morning,” she tilted her head in Ianto’s direction, her brow furrowed slightly. “I am early?”

 

Ianto grinned and shook his head. “Right on time, Lucia, good morning,” he said, picking up her folder. “I was thinking we might sit in one of the empty rooms before heading out for coffee?” Lucia nodded and stepped back as Ianto grabbed his briefcase and jacket. “See you both on Monday.” He smiled at Tosh and rolled his eyes as John gave an absent-minded wave of his hand and muttered, ‘ _not if I see you first_ ,’ before leaving the office.

 

~

 

Ianto returned to the office shortly before lunch, a take-away coffee in one hand and a box of pastries in the other. He breathed a tiny sigh of relief as he nudged open the door and stepped into an empty office. He had been talking to Lucia about her life before coming to the UK and had been surprised to discover that she’d been a film-maker and he wanted to see what he could do to help her put her obvious intelligence and experience to use. He’d just settled at his desk when the door was almost kicked open.

 

“Ianto?” John looked at the younger man over the stack of papers he was carrying. “What’re you still doing here?” He juggled the papers to look at his watch. “I thought you’d be finished for the day.”

 

Ianto grinned. “I was… am,” he said, getting up and helping John. “I just wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help Lucia other than teaching her English.”

 

John nodded and set the last of the paperwork down on his desk, watching Ianto carefully as he sat back down and started going through some of his paperwork. “Have you…” he began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “have you done something to your hair?”

 

Ianto looked up from a brochure on evening classes in Literacy for adults and shook his head slowly. “No.”

 

“You’re suit then. That suit must be new, it’s… shinier… than normal?” John tried again.

 

“John, are you feeling alright?” Ianto tucked a few brochures into his briefcase.

 

“I think I should be asking you that question.” John said, eyes narrowed as he watched Ianto.

 

“John, I’m _fine_ ,” Ianto said, stressing the word ‘fine’. “Just tired, my sister was waiting for me last night when I got home and between her and the kids, and the house…” he trailed off, giving the other man a tight smile. God, he _hated_ this.  Hated feeling like he was something to be pitied, like people were just waiting for him to snap or break or crumble into a crying, heaving, snotty ball of grief and anger and pain; hated it so much it made his stomach churn.

 

“Okay,” John began, looking away as Ianto gathered up his things. “It’s just,” he started as the younger man reached for another pile of brochures in an attempt to neaten up his desk. “Come out for a drink with me tonight? We’ll have a pint, watch a bit of rugby…”

 

Ianto looked at John, eyebrows practically disappearing into his hair-line. “You’re going out for a pint and to watch a bit of rugby?” He asked, the disbelief evident in his tone as he watched John attempt to keep his face from screwing up at the thought of watching a game of rugby in a smelly, smoky pub.

 

“Well, okay, so maybe not the rugby that might be stretching it a bit. But, come out for a drink with me?”

 

Ianto shook his head slightly and stood up from his desk, pocketing his car keys and reaching for his briefcase. “Thanks, John, but I can’t.”

 

“And why not?” he asked, standing up in an attempt to keep Ianto from getting too far. “You’re young! And probably the most gorgeous bloke in Cardiff, aside from me of course… and the hair thing, but the hair hasn’t really been your strength, has it? But, I just… I don’t want you to just be fine. I know when Rose left me, I was devastated for months - ” He never got to finish that sentence as Ianto exploded.

 

“No. No you don’t know and that’s just it John, Rose left you! She took your daughter and went to Spain with another man, Lisa died! She’s not coming back from that! She can’t come back from that!” He shoved past his boss and friend.

 

“Ianto…” John started, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“No, I’m sorry John, but I just… I can’t, okay? I just can’t.” Ianto slipped out of the office, pulling the door shut gently behind him.

 

John slumped to his desk and ran his hands over his face. “Well, I well and truly cocked that up, didn’t I?” Shaking his head at his own thick-headedness, he turned and started sifting through the papers he’d bought into the office, his heart aching for his friend and the grief he was going through.

 

~

 

Ianto made his way to his car; his heart was still pounding in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to punch something. Taking a deep breath, he willed his hands to stop shaking and he pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket, quickly scrolling through the list of contacts to the newest name to appear on the list. His thumb hesitated over the call button and he chanced a quick look at the time. If he called now and she was available straight away, he’d be home in time to let Rhiannon and Mica in, but, if he called now and she wasn’t able to see him, the urgency would pass and he’d forget this feeling during their session next week, sweeping it under the carpet.

 

Quickly, he pressed the call button before he could back out. “Hello, Dr Williams? It’s Ianto… Ianto Jones?”

 


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter IV **

 

He had burst into angry tears the moment Gwen had sat down and turned on the tape recorder. “I was at work and my boss was saying he’s worried about me and they’ve all been genuinely nice and caring and _gentle_ with me, like I’m some piece of bloody glass that they’re afraid of breaking.” He sniffed loudly and swiped at his face to remove the tears.

 

“You don’t like that they care?” Gwen asked softly.

 

“No, I do… I get it. I’d be worried about them if our positions were reversed.” He blinked rapidly, trying to keep himself from crying even more and swallowing past the lump forming in his throat.

 

“But…” she led gently, nudging Ianto in the right direction.

 

“I’m just so fucking _angry_!” Ianto buried his face in his hands and sobbed. “I’m angry at everyone, everything. I mean, his wife _left_ him. How _dare_ he compare that to what I’m going through, to this… it’s like this giant lead ball in the pit of my stomach and it’s _consuming_ me and I can’t stand it! I’m tired and I want to punch someone and I want to grab Lisa by the shoulders and shake her and demand _why_!” He could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, in between his fingers where they pressed against his face and he knew he was probably the sorriest sight anyone had ever had the opportunity to witness.

 

“Why are you mad at Lisa?” Gwen asked softly when he took a deep, shuddering breath.

 

He made a hiccupping, choking sound that bought more hot tears. “She left me!” He cried, feeling every single muscle in his body contract, tightening in anticipation; waiting to flee. “She was going to be my wife! We were going to have a baby… several babies, and she had it all planned. Made us plan a life together, made me want it, _ache_ for it and then she just…” Ianto shattered then, feeling his whole world spiralling to the ground, out of control and then breaking on impact. “She _died_ and she left me _here_. Left me alone to pick up the pieces and figure out what the bloody hell I’m supposed to do with it all now that there’s no one… no one to share it with, no one to bitch about the flat to, no one to just _be_ there when I’ve had a shit day.”

 

Gwen watched as he wiped his face with the edge of his sleeve, watched as his tongue flicked over his lips, no doubt tasting tears and snot and grief. She watched silently as he sobbed for almost twenty minutes straight, letting the grief and frustration that had been building since before he’d come to her break and boil over until there was nothing left. She had been waiting for this moment since he’d become her patient. Since his sister and former future sister-in-law had cajoled him into seeing someone about his feelings regarding Lisa’s death. She tapped her note pad and reached out to switch off the little tape recorder.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered as he reached out to take a handful of tissues from the proffered box. “We’ve gone over, haven’t we?”

 

Gwen smiled then and cast a quick look at her clock. “Doesn’t matter, how’re you feeling now?”

 

Ianto blew his nose and scrubbed at his face with the tissues one last time. “Better… lighter… thanks.”

 

“Not a problem.” Gwen smiled softly, rising when he did. “Like I’ve said, you’re making great progress but, you really shouldn’t let things like that build up; it’s why we have these sessions.” She shook his hand and patted him on the arm. “I’ll see you at our next appointment?” She led him to the door to the office as he nodded. “Great.” As he was leaving the outer office, she called after him, “And Ianto, don’t forget, it’s alright to be angry with her from time to time.” She gave him another one of her gentle smiles as he nodded and pulled the door shut behind him.

 

~

 

Ianto raced through the front door, shucking his jacket and tie in the process. His face felt tight and dry, no doubt as a result of the tears he’d shed in the doctor’s office. He was right, he did feel lighter now; like a weight he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying had been lifted off his chest. Yes, he had definitely needed the impromptu appointment with Gwen, even the flat and its current state – the hole in the kitchen floor, the missing kitchen cabinet doors and even the knowledge that he was sharing with rats – could not douse the feeling that he was _finally_ starting to let go, finally starting to move on instead of just wallowing in his grief for his lost fiancée. Quickly, he washed his face and headed back out to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Rhi would definitely want coffee and Mica, by way of apology, would be treated to a cup of frothy hot chocolate with extra foam.

 

~

 

The first time the doorbell rang after his impromptu visit with Gwen, it had been John. He’d handed him three yellow boxes, a business card and instructions on how to set up the boxes and that the exterminator – Owen – would be by some time tomorrow to have a thorough inspection of the property, but if he had any questions between now and then, he could call Owen on the mobile number on the card. Ianto had just finished setting up the last tray of rat poison when the doorbell rang again and he had to let in Rhiannon and Mica.

 

Mica had graciously accepted his apology with a cuddle before following Ianto out to the kitchen to help organise the coffee and hot chocolate. Ianto watched as the little girl – the spitting image of her mother at that age, if their family photos were anything to go by – settled on the kitchen bench, arranging biscuits on a plate to have with their drinks. He had just grabbed the milk from the fridge when he heard the vacuum start up in the living room; helping Mica off the bench, he walked back out to his sister.

 

“Rhi, what’re you doing?” He asked, switching the machine off.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked in return, reaching past him and switching it back on.

 

“You don’t have to do that. C’mon, stop it, sit down and relax.”

 

She waved him away. “Someone’s got to do it, Ianto. Just leave me be.”

 

He flicked it off at the wall, “I’ve got carpenters and an exterminator coming tomorrow and for who knows how long after that, just leave it.”

 

“Ianto,” Rhi said, handing him a sock and what looked like it could have passed for orange peel, once.

 

“It’s a bit hard to be house proud when you’ve got workmen coming and going, Rhiannon.” He muttered, taking the old peel and sock from her and heading back to the kitchen.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that Ianto, I just… I want to feel useful, help you out when I can. It’s what big sisters do.” She moved and switched on the vacuum at the wall. “I want to help you, I could pop ‘round once a week, while you’re at work and the kids are at school… or at least let me help you unpack.”

 

“NO.” Ianto said, shaking his head. He loved his sister dearly and would be lost without her, but he was peculiar in the way he liked to organise his things, and whilst she was every bit as neat as he was, they’re personal organising systems were as different as night and day. He smiled when he heard her concede defeat and turned to grab the cups when Mica, crouching on the floor caught his attention. “Oh God, Mica, that’s poison, don’t touch it!” He rushed over to her and snatched the little plastic tray up off the floor and sat it on top of a high shelf.

 

“Mica!” The vacuum stopped and Rhiannon rushed into the kitchen, grabbing the little girl by the face. “Oh God, what’s in your mouth? Spit it out!”

 

“Rhi, it’s okay, it’s a biscuit,” Ianto said as he watched his sister start the tap, patting Mica on the back to make her spit out whatever was in her mouth. “The poison is purple, it’s okay.”

 

“Bloody hell!” Rhiannon turned off the tap and frog-marched Mica to a seat at the dining table. “Just sit still! Don’t move, don’t touch anything and just… try not to poison yourself for five minutes.” She threw her hands up in the air and stomped away from the little girl, picking up another tray of poison as she went, tucking it up out of reach. “Going to send me to a bloody early grave, you and your brother,” she muttered before spinning back and looking at Ianto who was leaning over, pressing kisses to the little girl’s hair and slipping her another biscuit and her hot chocolate. “Impossible! That’s what you are.”

 

Ianto smiled at Mica before moving to join Rhiannon on the sofa, “And yet you love them anyway.” He handed her a cup of coffee and sat down beside her with his own, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “How’s Johnny?” he asked, taking a long, slow sip from his cup, watching Mica as she swiped at the foam on her nose.

 

Rhiannon chuckled and took a sip of her own drink. “Mmm, wonderful,” she muttered, raising her cup in thanks. “Johnny’s good. Have you heard about Three Peaks?”

 

“What?”

 

“Daddy’s going to climb Snowdon.” Mica piped up from her place at the dining table.

 

“You’re kidding me?” Ianto looked from Mica to Rhiannon. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

 

Rhiannon smiled. “Well, he wants to try the Three Peaks challenge. He saw a documentary on it the other night and it’s been all he talks about since.” She shook her head before continuing. “We’ll see.”

 

Ianto laughed and set aside his coffee before motioning for Mica to join them. “And what do you reckon?” he asked the little girl, pulling her onto his lap.

 

She shrugged and snuggled into her uncle’s embrace. The affairs of the adults in her life were of little consequence to her, so long as she got bedtime stories off her Mam, three pound pocket money off her Tad for keeping up with her chores, and chocolate off her Uncle whenever she saw him, it really didn’t matter what else they did with their time; and Rhiannon said as much to Ianto, wrapping an arm around both of them as best she could.

 

They sat like that for a while, arms around each other and chatting about trivial things – Mica and David’s school, their friends, Rhiannon and David’s discussion about maybe, one day, in the near future adding to their small family and Ianto’s work and the house.

 

“You could sell it.” She said, looking around at the house.

 

“No,” Ianto said. “And even if I wanted to sell it, which I don’t, nobody is buying right now, not even nice homes. Besides, I like it.”

 

“I don’t know why,” Rhiannon muttered, “it’s not like Lisa ever lived here.”

 

“It’s got nothing to do with Lisa.” Ianto said, stamping down on the sharp pain in his heart at Rhiannon’s words. No, Lisa hadn’t lived in this house, but she was a part of it just the same, from the mug still sitting on the piano to the shoes in the bedroom.

 

“I just… I don’t like the thought of you rambling around in this house, which looks like it could come down around your ears any minute now, all by yourself.”

 

Ianto smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his sister’s cheek. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments, three pairs of eyes roving around the flat. Eventually, Rhiannon nudged Mica gently.

 

“Go on,” she urged the little girl before looking over at Ianto. “Mica has something she’d like to ask you.”

 

Ianto watched, eyebrow quirked slightly as Mica’s cheeks turned pink. “What?”

 

“Well,” Rhiannon began. “Mica’s been taking lessons.”

 

“Lessons?” Ianto looked from his niece to his sister and back again.

 

“Yes, flute lessons.” Rhiannon nudged at the little girl’s knee. “She wanted it to be a surprise.”

 

Ianto gave his niece a little squeeze, “Oh, right.”

 

“Anyway,” Rhiannon continued. “Well, she’s having these lessons and at some point… well, the school provides the children with instruments until you decide whether or not it’s serious… whether or not the child is going to persevere. But then, obviously, eventually, she’s going to need her own flute.”

 

Ianto nodded slowly. “And, so what’re you getting at, Rhi?”

 

“Well, Mica was wondering… and obviously, we want you to say if it’s a bad idea or what have you, but, we were wondering if, well, if Lisa’s flute is…” Rhiannon smiled at Mica before looking at Ianto again. Off his look, she tilted her head slightly and asked, “Is that such a terrible idea? I mean, you don’t play it, you hardly play the piano anymore and perhaps…” She trailed off and looked at Ianto expectantly.

 

Ianto tightened his old on Mica and frowned. “You… you want me to give you Lisa’s flute?”

 

“Well no, not give. Either for Mica to borrow it, or, we could buy it from you.” Rhi said, shifting a little in her seat.

 

“Do you have any idea how much that flute is worth?” Ianto asked incredulously, shifting Mica to her mother’s lap and standing up.

 

“Well, we know it’s a good one, naturally.” Rhi said, pulling Mica close.

 

“That’s a fifteen thousand pound flute!” He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. The feeling of lightness he’d had since leaving Gwen’s office had disappeared, the lead ball of grief had returned, settling in his stomach and making it churn. “I can’t believe you’d be so bloody insensitive. It’s practically all I have left of Lisa.” He glared at his sister, resisting the urge to rush from the room and be ill. “It’s like… like asking me to give you her body.”

 

“Oh Ianto, don’t be so melodramatic.” Rhiannon rolled her eyes and shook her head sadly.

 

“Well anyway, you can’t have it. If Mica wants a flute, I’d be happy to help you buy her one. I know a place in London, she can get a student’s flute, but you cannot have Lisa’s.”

 

“Alright,” Rhiannon sighed, “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to ask.”

 

“You never should have asked.” Ianto said, sitting back down on the settee, pressing himself up against the arm, away from Rhiannon and Mica. “So horrible,” he muttered, more to himself than for the benefit of his guests.

 

“I had no idea you’d react this way, Ianto.” Rhiannon said, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Ianto?” She pulled her hand back as though she’d been burned when he pulled away from her, burying his face into the crook of his elbow.

 

Ianto took a deep breath, pulling himself together before facing Rhiannon and Mica. “Sorry, I’ve ruined our lovely afternoon.” He stood up and wiped his hands down the front of his trousers.

 

“That’s okay; we should be heading off anyway.” Rhiannon lifted Mica off her lap and stood up. “Have to pick David up from rugby practice.”

 

Ianto nodded and followed them out to the front door. Smiling down at Mica as Rhiannon gathered her bag and their coats; he reached into his pocket and pulled out two five pound notes. “One for you and one for your brother,” he whispered, bending down and tucking the notes into her hand. “Don’t tell your Mam and Tad.” He said, winking conspiratorially at the child.

 

“Don’t think I didn’t see that, Ianto Jones.” Rhiannon said, smiling as she turned around just in time to see Mica jam her hands into her pockets. “You’re going to spoil them rotten, you are. Mica, what do you say?”

 

“Thank you uncle Ianto,” Mica said, rolling her eyes in a way that reminded Rhiannon of Ianto. She threw her arms around Ianto’s waist, giving him a tight hug.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “And don’t forget, five for you, five for your brother.” He told her, turning her as he straightened and nudging her towards the front stairs.

 

“I really am sorry, Ianto.” Rhiannon reached out hesitantly, pressing a quick kiss to her brother’s cheek.

 

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Ianto gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder before giving her a quick buss on the head as he had done with Mica. “I’ve forgotten about it already,” he said, as she made her way down the stairs and to the car. He waved as they drove off, waiting until the car was at the end of the street before going back inside and making his way to his bedroom.

 

Once there he pulled Lisa’s flute case from the shelf inside the wardrobe, carrying it to the bed. Sitting down and reclining against the headboard, he flicked up the clasps and opened the case, gently running his fingers across the silver instrument and dark velvet lining. It wasn’t until his thumb slipped on a patch of wet, smudging across the head-joint that he realised he was crying.


	5. Chapter 5

** Chapter V **

 

When Ianto woke the next morning, he was wrapped around Lisa’s flute case as though he were protecting it from the world at large. A corner of the case dug painfully into his bicep as he lay there, gaze drifting around the room. He’d have to get up soon, he had papers to go through, lesson plans to individualise for his clients at the school and John and his friend would be arriving soon to finish the kitchen, not to mention the exterminator would be around as well to discuss the rat problem. He rolled onto his back, clutching the flute case to his chest and watched the ceiling. He’d been having a great afternoon yesterday, even after his argument with John, and then Rhi had to go and ruin it all by… his grip on the case tightened. Time ticked by slowly as he lay there watching the ceiling and as the light coming in from the bedroom windows turned from a cool Luke to a warming yellow, Ianto forced himself up and out of bed to return the flute case to its rightful place in the wardrobe and to hop into the shower.

 

John had arrived, as promised, about an hour after Ianto had showered and dressed. With him had been his friend – a young man, probably not much older than Ianto, named Luke, and on his heels, the exterminator, Owen. After their initial introductions and Ianto had gotten them all cups of coffee, they’d sat around for a little while getting to know one another.  Ianto suspected it was John’s way of trying to liven things up a little for the Welshman, but he hadn’t risen to the bait, and after the coffee had been drunk, he’d excused himself to the living room to let the three men go about their business. That had been two hours ago; now Ianto looked up from his place on the sofa and could see into the dining room, watching as John called something over his shoulder to Luke before turning back to measure and cut the cupboard doors. He watched as a muffled reply to whatever John had called out resulted in the man throwing his head back and laughing until he was doubled over.

 

“ _If you hadn’t bought this death trap of a house_ ,” the Lisa voice whispered in his head, “ _you could be alone right now. You wouldn’t have to force yourself to smile whenever they look over at you, you could have stayed in bed or you could have gone and gotten a bloody haircut.”_

 

Ianto sighed and looked back to the paper work spread around him; it wasn’t helping, dwelling on what would have been and could have been and in the end, it was just making him feel worse than he already did.

 

“Ianto?” A voice called from somewhere near the front door. “Ianto Jones?”

 

Ianto dropped his head into his hands and groaned softly before answering. “In here.” He looked up as his boss entered the room.

 

“The door was open,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and scuffing the toe of his trainer into the carpet. “Look, about…” he began to say, but was cut off by a wave of Ianto’s hand.

 

“Don’t mention it. All’s forgiven.” Ianto said, offering the other man a small smile. “What’ve you got there?”

 

John nodded and handed Ianto the satchel that had been slung across his chest.  “Paperwork, some of it came in last night after you left. I figured you’d want to get a start on it over the weekend if you weren’t too busy already.” He looked around the flat. “What’s going on here then?” he asked, stepping out of the way as John Hart wandered back into the dining room holding a cupboard door.

 

Before he could respond, another voice called out, drawing Ianto’s attention.

 

“Ianto mate, this is bloody important. No one’s touched these trays since you set ‘em down, have they?” Owen appeared at the door to the living room, holding one of the little trays Ianto had set down yesterday afternoon.

 

“No, why?” Ianto asked, looking a little confused.

 

“Well, either they’ve decided it makes for a lovely midnight snack, or there’s more than we initially thought, which can only mean one thing: Nesting.” He sighed and shook the tray a little. “If they’re nesting, it could be anywhere… underneath the floor boards, in the roof, in the walls… I’m going to need to bring in some serious equipment to check.” He turned away as he finished speaking, heading back out the front door and to his waiting work van.

 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got mice?” John asked, looking around the living room as though he expected to see one skitter across the floor.

 

Ianto pressed his lips together and shook his head, holding his hands close together before moving them about a foot apart.

 

“Oh.” John said slowly, brow furrowed, and then, “Ohh, rats. Right.” He shuddered. “This house hasn’t been very good to you, has it?”

 

Ianto shrugged and smiled, though the light of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s alright. Besides, I like it,” he said, the phrase feeling more and more like a mantra the more often he said it. It wasn’t that it wasn’t true – because he genuinely did like the house and had loved the idea of having a little corner of the world he could call his own – it was that everyone else seemed to find fault with it. “So, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to a brightly coloured card peeking out from John’s pocket.

 

“Lunch!” Hart said as he entered the living room, holding two bowls.

 

“What?” John said, looking up at the handyman.

 

“It’s cawl,” Ianto muttered, accepting a bowl. “John Hart, this is my boss and friend, Doctor John Smith. Hart’s the neighbourhood handyman,” Ianto said by way of introduction. He looked to his boss who hadn’t said anything, and was thumbing the card in his pocket. “It’s lamb and vegetable soup, John here has been taking a class.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” John said as he smiled at Hart and took a bowl. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Hart said, grinning and leering before continuing. “I _was_ taking a cooking class; bird that ran it was a nice piece of totty, nothing like Eye Candy here mind you, who is just about the most handsome bloke in all of Cardiff.”

 

John looked up from his bowl of soup and noticed something in the way Hart looked down at Ianto and he felt his stomach knot at the thought of his still grieving friend having an unrequited admirer. “Most handsome bloke in all of Cardiff you say?” He turned to Ianto then and noticed the touch of pink on his cheeks and the awkward way he all of a sudden held himself. “I’d almost believe you,” John said, looking back at Hart and wanting to diffuse the situation. “Except I live in Cardiff as well, and clearly,” he said as he ran his hands down his chest and gave a funny smirk. “I’m the most gorgeous man in all of Cardiff.”

 

The trio laughed and John breathed a tiny sigh of relief at Ianto’s chuckle.

 

“What’s so funny?” The exterminator came back in, holding an empty coffee mug. “Any more of that coffee?” he asked, looking at Ianto who nodded, rising from his seat to go and pour a cup for him.

 

“Just a little friendly debate over which of us is, naturally, the most gorgeous bloke in Cardiff,” Hart said, smirking as he leaned against the door frame that separated the living room from the dining room. “So far, I’m winning.”

 

“Ha!” said Owen, smirking and nodding his thanks as Ianto sat back down to finish his lunch. “You? Sorry to tell you this mate, but, you’ve got a face like a cat’s arse.”

 

The three men laughed as Hart pouted good naturedly before heading back into the kitchen with Owen hot on his heels. As their laughter died down, Ianto and John could hear the two friends bickering in the kitchen.

 

“So,” Ianto said after he’d finished his soup. “What’s in your pocket?” he raised his eyebrow and looked at John, noticing as the other man began to fidget.

 

“Well,” he said, dragging it out a little. “Another postcard arrived from Martha yesterday after you left,” he quickly carried on as Ianto opened his mouth to speak. “I know, I know! I promise I’ll start learning, okay?” He held the postcard out to Ianto. “Starting today if you’ve got the time,” he said, producing another postcard, but this one had a picture of the Millennium Centre and Roald Dahl Plass on it. “I want to write back… in Spanish.”

 

Ianto grinned and accepted the postcard. “Right then, better not keep Martha waiting,” he said before he read out the postcard and cleared away a stack of paperwork from in front of John. For the first time since he woke, Ianto wasn’t feeling quite so lost and alone.

 

~

 

Ianto had excused himself shortly after having helped John pen the postcard – entirely in Spanish – to Martha and now found himself standing in his small back garden, flicking sheets and towels up over the line that was strung from one side of the yard to the other. From his position, he could see John, Hart, Luke and Owen standing around the kitchen window, a tiny quirk of his eyebrows in the group’s direction and John was holding up his hands, the bright yellow rubber gloves flecked with soap bubbles before they dropped back out of sight. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he went back to hanging out the washing; enjoying the small respite from probing, awkward glances and forced conversation in an attempt to draw him out of his grief.

 

~

 

“He’s not been the same since Lisa,” John said, handing Hart a bowl to dry.

 

“It takes a while,” Owen said softly and with the wisdom of someone who _knew_. “The grief right now feels like its smothering him, like a lead ball that’s all-consuming, but he’ll get through it. Seems like a strong enough bloke, he’s just gotta learn not to let it eat at him.”

 

John looked over his shoulder at the exterminator and nodded slowly. “You know what happened, don’t you?”

 

Owen shook his head.

 

“Sore throat,” John said by way of explanation.

 

Hart rolled his eyes. “There’s more to it than that.” He set the bowl aside and accepted a cup. “She was complaining of a sore throat, said it felt like someone was squeezing her throat so they went to the hospital and before the doctors in casualty could get a look at her, her throat closed up and she died not too long after that, allergic reaction to the antibiotics her doctor prescribed.” Hart shook his head sadly. “Or, at least that’s what Ianto said the doctor told him.”

 

“Anaphylaxis,” John said sagely, shaking his head. “She was so young too, not quite twenty-five, brilliant flautist.” He stepped back as Ianto looked up at them from outside, arms flailing as his heel caught the hole in the floor. “Bloody hell, this place is falling apart!” He looked down at the hole and back out to Ianto who was hanging the last towel on the line.

 

“Yeah, we’re going to get around to that.” Hart said, accepting another bowl to dry off.


	6. Chapter 6

** Chapter VI **

 

Ianto sat in the living room at his piano with his arms draped across the top as he watched the patch of light on the wall change from the warm glow of afternoon sunshine to the deepening orange-red of sunset. It had been a long day that had been made even longer by the steady stream of visitors. John hadn’t stuck around for very long after his postcard had been completed and when Hart, Luke and Owen had finished for the day, they’d invited him to join them down the pub for a few pints and a game of darts but he’d declined, motioning to the pile of paperwork John had bought him from the school.

 

He’d gotten her flute down from the bedroom closet not long after they’d all left, carrying it down to the living room. The last time he’d heard her play, she’d been sitting beside him on the bench and they’d played – or attempted to play – Moonlight Sonata. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he remembered how they had ended up entwined, under the piano.

 

“ _You haven’t played for me in a while_ ,” the Lisa-voice in his head whispered.

 

He shrugged as he sat back, lifting the lid. For a moment he felt like he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do as he stared down, his fingers gently brushing over the lip used to hold sheet music and then – oh so gently – the first few strains of Debussy filled the living room. As the music began to build and Ianto’s fingers began to dance across the keys, the weight that had settled on his chest when Rhi had asked about Lisa’s flute slowly began to lift. Tears made their way down his cheeks to drip off his chin as in his head, he heard Lisa’s flute join in. As the music built to a crescendo, Ianto’s hands clamped down on the keys of the piano and silence descended on the house save for a single, mournful note from the flute. Ianto squeezed his eyes closed and pressed his hands to his ears as if he could drown out the sound of Lisa’s flute which should not have been possible because _she was_ _dead_ and he was _obviously going mad_ and something rustled and brushed against him and his eyes flew open and he turned slightly on the bench and there she was.

 

Ianto’s heart felt like it had leapt into his throat and all the air was sucked from the room as he stared into familiar brown eyes. He pulled back slightly and ran a hand down his face, wiping away tears and sweat and snot and when he removed his hand, she was still there. Still dressed in the sombre suit she’d been buried in, hair styled exactly the same way as he’d last seen it.

 

“Lisa?” He whispered, hand reaching out to hesitate over her arm.

 

“God, I thought that lot would never leave. Were you expecting someone else?” she asked, setting aside her flute and arching an eyebrow at him slightly.

 

When she spoke, Ianto almost flew off the bench in fear and then she’d arched her eyebrow in that way that made his heart do funny things and his pulse quicken and she was _there_ and she was _teasing him_. He fell on her then, arms wrapping around her waist, face pressing into her neck and he was sobbing; gut-wrenching, soul-shattering sobs that seemed to shake him to his very core and he wasn’t letting her go and she smelled the same and stroked his hair in exactly the same way as she had after the bombings and the night after his father’s funeral when he’d gotten so drunk he’d passed out wrapped around the loo. Her voice washed over him whispering quiet nonsense, calming him as her fingertips danced along his scalp, soothing away the tension and grief. After a while, when Ianto’s sobs had subsided to words too muttered for anyone to understand with the way his face was pressed into the side of her neck and the occasional hiccup, Lisa gently pried him away from her, coaxing him to lean back so she could see him.

 

“Hello you,” she said, smiling and holding him by his shoulders.

 

“You’re… you’re here.” Ianto said, tongue sneaking out to dampen dry lips, voice raspy from his emotional meltdown. “I mean,” he started to say, but stopped to swallow several times as his voice finally petered out. “It’s really you? You’re back? You’ve come back?”

 

Lisa laughed and oh _God_ , he had missed that laugh. “It’s really me, as I … well… as I exist. And yes, I’m back. Though, I never left, not really.”

 

“But, I mean, _how_?” Ianto asked, brow furrowed as he looked at her closely. “You… you died and I was _there_ and we buried you. Your mum, oh God, how are we going to tell your mother? What are we going to tell your mother?”

 

“I just… I am,” Lisa said, shrugging as if that explained it all. “It’s not really what they make it out to be, I mean… people come and go all the time. And I know. I was there for that too. Always said I’d be late to my own funeral and I almost was,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Time moves differently for us, when we’re not here. You also don’t have to worry about mum, she’s fine. Wishes you’d stay in touch a little more often than you do, but she understands why you don’t, why you can’t.” She said with a tiny smile as she reached up and cupped Ianto’s cheek. “I missed you,” she told him softly, her cheeks pinking up a little at the admission.

 

Ianto grinned and pressed his cheek into her palm, relishing the cool of her hand against his overheated skin and his blue eyes alight with amazement at the woman sitting in front of him. “I’ve missed you, so bloody much.” He muttered, reaching out to pull her to him and claiming her lips in a kiss. After a moment, he pulled back slightly and pressed his forehead against hers. “Christ, your lips and nose are cold.”

 

Lisa laughed and worked her fingers up underneath his shirt, making him yelp and squirm away from her touch. “I’m bloody freezing,” she corrected him. “It’s like the artic in here.”

 

Ianto frowned as he took in the state of the living room; he really didn’t have anything to light a fire with as the weather had been unseasonably warm for early spring. “I didn’t realise it had gotten so late,” he muttered, more for his benefit than Lisa’s and he wondered briefly at how long he’d been sitting at the piano crying before she’d shown up. “I’ll turn the thermostat up a little, but I’ve got some blankets and things on the line, I’ll go and get them, they should be dry by now.” Ianto stood up slowly, watching Lisa as he went and bursting into hysterical giggles as he backed away and into a wall. “I’ll be back in just a second, don’t go anywhere.”

 

“You’re the only one, you know.” Lisa said her tone serious as she followed him into the back garden.

 

“The only one what?” Ianto asked, taking down the sheets and towels he’d hung out earlier.

 

“Who can see me, that’s how it works.” Lisa leant against the door frame. “A little girl named Jasmine explained it all to me.”

 

“Oh?” Ianto held the basket of washing as he looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

 

“Sweetest little thing,” Lisa said, a soft smile playing about her lips. “Likes to pretend she’s a fairy. She was sort of… a guide, for me at first. Pointed out that of everyone’s pain, you and mum were the loudest. It was like a… klaxon, following me ‘round wherever I went, and after a while, mum’s… it didn’t disappear, but it got quieter. Like she realised she still had to keep on living for Tasha and Robert and Dad. You on the other hand…” she trailed off and met his gaze. “I couldn’t live with that kind of pain, Ianto. Knowing how much it was hurting you to be without me. So, here I am.” She flashed him a smile.

 

“I’m sorry,” Ianto said, shifting the basket as he approached her. “I didn’t mean to…”

 

Lisa cut him off. “It’s fine. I quite liked it, knowing that you were missing me like that. It made me feel like I was still a part of your life, even though I was gone.”

 

“You were… are. You are.” Ianto said, leaning in to her. The doorbell rang, making him jump and pull back from Lisa. “Shit, that’s my front door,” he muttered, hurrying inside.

 

“Bit late isn’t it?” Lisa asked, following him closely. “Expecting someone?”

 

“Not bloody likely,” Ianto said, setting the basket down on the floor. “Could always pretend I’m not home?” He looked at Lisa before whoever was on the other side of the door started knocking.

 

“Right,” Lisa said, looking around the front entry way. “I’ll just make myself scarce. Don’t forget to lock the back door when you’re done.” Ianto watched as she walked off towards the kitchen before turning to open the front door.

 

“John?” He asked, genuinely surprised to see the blond Englishman standing on his front step. “Is everything okay?”

 

“I’ve decided,” Hart said, wavering a little on his feet. “You and I are gonna go to Paris.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and leaned against the door jamb. “For one whole week Eye candy, it will just be you, me, a hotel room in one of Paris’ finest hotels and a big bottle of lube, whataya say?”

 

“I say, it’s late and you’re drunk.” Ianto laughed at John and shook his head as the other man gave him a bleary-eyed look.

 

“I’m serious,” John said, holding up a pair of plane tickets. “We will shag ourselves rotten for one whole week.”

 

Ianto frowned and felt his heart ache a little for his friend. “John,” he started to say, watching as the man wobbled on unsteady legs. “I’m not… I can’t go with you to Paris.”

 

“Why not?” John asked, arms flung out to the sides as he spun around. “I could love you, Ianto Jones and I know I’m your type. Rhiannon told me about those lads back in College.”

 

Ianto sighed and dropped his head against the edge of the door. He was going to kill Rhiannon the next time he saw her. “John, it’s not that I don’t like you, or I don’t like Paris,” Ianto began when John looked like he was about to say something else. “I’m just… I’m not looking for a lover. I’d say the same to anybody.” He gave the other man a small smile. “Besides, you’re a mate and you’re three sheets to the wind.”

 

“Let me come in and we’ll talk about it.” John said, taking two very unsteady steps forward.

 

“No, John.” Ianto said firmly, raising himself to his full height. “It’s late, now go home and sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He stepped back and shut and locked the door before sliding the chain into place. He felt a little sad for his friend and couldn’t be too mad at him, not only would he wake up tomorrow with a hangover, but if he remembered this, he’d be embarrassed as all hell and it wasn’t  as though he’d never outright discouraged John’s flirting and when Lisa had been alive, he’d even flirted back on occasion. Giving himself a little mental shake, Ianto stepped away from the door. “Lisa?” he called out softly, walking through to the living room and the piano. “Lisa, you can come back now.”

 

Outside on the front step, John sat shaking his head sadly as he heard Ianto moving about inside, calling for Lisa.

 

~

 

He’d looked for her in all of the rooms downstairs and in the back garden, he’d called for her and pleaded with the air for her to come back and after twenty minutes of feeling like the biggest kind of fool, Ianto had convinced himself he was going insane and needed to sleep. Ianto ran his hands over his face as he sat on the edge of his bed.

 

“I am the ghost of Christmas past, Oooh!” Lisa said, sitting up from the bed, draped in one of Ianto’s sheets.

 

Ianto shrieked and flew off the end of the bed, clasping at his chest. “Jesus Christ!” He stood up straight, eyes wide and chest heaving as he glared down at Lisa who was rolling on the bed laughing. When he’d calmed down, and his heart no longer felt like it was trying to evacuate his body via his mouth, he sat back down. “That going to be your new party trick is it?” He asked, “Tying cherry stems in a knot with your tongue not good enough anymore?”

 

Lisa flopped back against the pillows and looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Who was at the front door?” She asked.

 

Ianto grinned, he knew that look. That look made his blood sing and his whole body feel as though someone had touched him with a live wire. Slowly, he made to move up the bed but was stopped by Lisa’s foot planted firmly in the middle of his chest.

 

“Sounded like a man.” She said, lifting her chin and looking at everything but Ianto.

 

“It was, it was John. You met him, do you remember?” He asked, cupping her heel and working his thumbs against the arch of her foot.

 

“I’m dead, Ianto, not senile.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “What did he want?”

 

Ianto chuckled. “He wanted to whisk me away to Paris to shag me silly in an attempt to mend my broken heart.”

 

“And you turned him down?” Lisa asked, a single brow arching slightly. “I remember when we first met him and I teased you about how gorgeous he was and that I’d leave you for him if you weren’t careful…”

 

“And I said not if I didn’t do it first.” Ianto grinned and moved his ministrations to the ball of her foot. He had missed this, the gentle teasing, the easy conversation.

 

“Does he love you?” She asked, pressing her hands to her mouth and breathing on her fingertips.

 

Ianto shook his head. “No, I think he’s just tired of seeing me wallowing. He’s been a good friend through all of this. What are you doing?” He asked, watching as she rubbed her lips.

 

Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m warming up my lips and fingers, what does it look like I’m doing?”

 

Ianto grinned and moved her foot aside as he crawled up her body. He had definitely missed this, he thought to himself as he captured her lips in a slow kiss before pulling back and taking her hands in his own, rubbing them and blowing warm air across them to take some of the chill out of them. When he was sure they were suitably warmed, Ianto pulled Lisa closer to him, wrapping his arms around her waist as he left a trail of kisses along the slender column of her neck.

 

“I did miss you,” Lisa whispered, curling her fingers through his hair and tugging his head back so she could look at him.

 

“Me too,” Ianto said, claiming her lips in a soft kiss.


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter VII **

_“Me too,” Ianto said, claiming her lips in a soft kiss._

 

Lisa moaned softly, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as the kiss deepened. When she had been alive this had been one of her favourite past times; right up there with watching Ianto play the piano and cook or make coffee, anything so long as she got to watch his hands. There was something about Ianto’s kisses; they were dizzying and toe-curling at the same time as being gentle and heart-warming. She shifted on the bed, nestling further back into the pillows, her head tilting back as Ianto moved from her lips to her throat.

 

Ianto’s head was swimming; he’d wanted this, ached for this for so long and now that it was here he had no idea where to even think about starting. He remembered picking up one of Lisa’s trashy romance novels one lazy Sunday afternoon – before the decision to move back to Cardiff had been made – and reading out loud how the heroine and her soul mate had fallen on each other after a period of estrangement. Ianto had teased her mercilessly for days after that and now he found himself in almost the same predicament. Slowly, he sat back on his heels beside her and began to unbutton her blouse, sliding it from her shoulders along with the black jacket she’d been buried in. As the material slipped away, his fingers stroked the skin it revealed. Long, pale fingers danced across dark skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake as he reacquainted himself with areas that were sensitive to the lightest of touches and areas that demanded a firmer touch to keep her from wriggling away in giggles.  

 

Her skirt was the next to go and he pressed his lips to her stomach as he reached underneath her to lower the zipper and undo the hook and eye. He’d been with her when she’d bought this suit, had sat in the dressing area like the dutiful boyfriend that he was, waiting as she modelled it for him and then ducking into the changing room when no one was watching to help her undress. It was one of the memories he’d tucked away after she’d died; too painful to relive without her there to grin and tease him over the scandalous way they’d occupied the changing room, especially when Tasha had told him that they’d chosen that outfit to be her last. He slid the skirt over her hips and down her thighs, his fingers brushing the lace edge of her knickers and then the tops of her thigh-high stockings sent tiny sparks of pleasure straight to his groin. Tossing the skirt to join the jacket and blouse, he sat back and looked at her, trying to memorize every curve and dip and freckle in case he woke up in the morning and she was gone. The ivory lace of her matching knicker and bra set stood out in stark relief against her dark skin and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to fall on her like the characters in her romance novel from that Sunday so long ago. He wanted to take his time and make this evening last… just in case. He watched as her eyes lowered under such scrutiny and her cheeks darkened as she flushed. Ianto opened his mouth to say something and found that his tongue felt like it had been coated in several layers of sawdust.

 

Swallowing, he tried again. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. “I never told you enough.”

 

“You told me every day for four years, Ianto.” Lisa said with a shy smile. “You told me plenty.”

 

“Then I should have told you twice a day, and three times on Sundays.” He reached out and trailed a finger from her sternum to her belly button, delighting in the way her skin flushed and the muscles jumped beneath the digit.  He bent at the waist and trailed kisses from her collar bone to the spot just behind her ear that he knew would have her gasping if he bit down gently, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as she gasped and clutched at his shoulders.

 

His fingers traced the edge of her bra, causing her to shiver and whimper with anticipation. He shifted slightly and began trailing kisses down the column of her throat, across her sternum and over to the swell of her right breast. He groaned as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly and sending more sparks of pleasure straight to his cock. His tongue darted out to taste her skin where it met the lace of her bra before he moved to her nipple, sucking and tonguing at the rapidly hardening nub through the material. As she arched her back, he slipped his hands beneath her once more, his fingertips stroking up and down her spine before finally coming to rest against the clasp of her bra while his mouth moved across her chest to apply the same attention to her left nipple.

 

“Ianto,” Lisa murmured, tightening her grip on his hair slightly in silent warning.

 

He grinned against the material and with a flick of his wrist, undid the bra before slowly pulling it away and tossing it to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. He moved back up and claimed her lips in another languorous kiss; Ianto was definitely in no rush to see this over so quickly. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against her shoulder and took a deep, steadying breath.

 

“You’re probably just some figment of my imagination,” he muttered as his fingers continued to stroke her sides.

 

“If I am…” she trailed off, letting the possibility hang there between them for a moment. “Either way, you’ll still need to change the sheets in the morning,” Lisa said, smirking as she tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “And you’re still wearing far too many clothes.”

 

Ianto smiled and sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and flinging it across the room before awkwardly shimmying out of his jeans, leaving him clad in a dark pair of boxer-briefs.

 

Lisa watched as he stripped and had to bite her lip to keep from frowning. He’d lost weight since she’d died, not enough that strangers would notice, but enough that she would; his hip bones just beginning to jut out and the jeans he’d been wearing were starting to get a little too loose around the waist. She reached out and ran her fingers through the smattering of curls on his chest, grinning at the stifled groan when she gave a quick, sharp tug.

 

“You need to start eating more,” she said, reaching out with her other hand and running her fingers across his side where his ribs were starting to show.

 

“I do,” he muttered, and she watched as a pink blush that had nothing to do with arousal spread across his chest. “I will,” he promised. Lisa nodded and sat up, trailing her fingers down his chest and over his stomach to tug at the waistband of his underwear, urging him closer.

 

Ianto wrapped his arms around Lisa’s waist and pulled her up so she was straddling his lap. He tilted his head, offering her a slow smile before resuming a trail of kisses along her shoulder to her clavicle. He groaned into the delicate skin of her throat as a perfectly manicured fingernail traced along the front of his briefs before a cool hand slipped inside the waistband and wrapped around his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze before drawing lazy circles around the tip with her thumb.

 

Lisa felt the vibrations from his groan all the way down to her core and felt her muscles clench in expectation of what was to come. It wasn’t just human touch she’d craved after death, it’s was Ianto’s touch; the way he knew every inch of her, had spent hours when they’d first gotten to know each other, mapping her with his hands, eyes and lips. A tiny whimper escaped her lips as he drew his teeth across her clavicle, sending a bolt of desire straight to her centre and in response, she tightened her grip a little more and began to slowly stroke him, the heat coming off him quickly warming her hand.

 

It had been so long – too long, his mind whispered – and he was trying so hard to keep from coming in his pants like a teenager. He ran one hand down her back as he caught a nipple between his lips, sucking and blowing gently on the dark nub until it hardened before turning to lavish the same attention on the other as his hand moved from her waist to her hip. Ianto smirked against her breast as Lisa moaned and took the opportunity to slide two fingers inside the leg of her knickers, tracing her slick folds. He pulled back from her chest then and looked up, watching as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth to keep from crying out. With a little manoeuvring and a slight twist of his wrist, he scraped one of his blunt nails gently over her clit and delighted in the way she clamped her thighs tightly against his own and tightened her grip on his dick, increasing the speed of her strokes.

 

White hot desire speared through her and any thoughts as to taking their time and savouring the moment flew out the window as Lisa opened her eyes and saw the smirk on Ianto’s face. She removed her hand from his pants and with a twist of her hips and a gentle shove to Ianto’s shoulders, she had knocked them both onto their sides on the bed, and with a wriggle of her hips she was able to get out of her knickers and begin tugging his pants down.

 

Ianto rolled onto his back, laughing at Lisa’s impatience. He lifted his hips as she dragged his briefs down over his hips and watched as she threw them over the side of the bed. He had been about to tell her that they had all the time in the world, when the words died on his tongue as she took him in her mouth, her tongue curling around the tip before taking him all the way in.

 

“Lis,” he groaned as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked him from root to tip. The cold had returned to her lips but he didn’t care, so long as she didn’t _stop_. His hands flew to her head, fingers trailing through her short, pixie-styled hair, encouraging her to continue. A muffled laugh penetrated the haze that had settled over his brain and he lifted his head to see her looking up at him from beneath her lashes. A strangled yell forced its way from his chest as he felt cool fingers begin to gently massage his balls.

 

Lisa watched through hooded eyes as Ianto started to come apart under her ministrations and she thrilled at the power she held over him in moments like this. She delighted in watching as the mask of the tightly controlled linguist gave way to the playful and uninhibited twenty-seven year old that was usually only reserved for weekends and the privacy of their own home. She heard the hitch in his breath and knew he was close, another slow bob of her head and she released him with a muffled pop before he hauled her back up his body and crushed her mouth with his own in a fierce kiss before rolling them and making his way down her body.

 

Ianto left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her torso, warm breath blowing across her nipples, tongue darting out to circle her navel before moving across to her hip and the ribbon of tiny music notes tattooed there. The memory of discovering the tattoo rushed to the forefront of his mind and he caressed the area with his thumb before dipping his head and pressing a loving kiss to the area. He mumbled something into her skin before nuzzling his way through the neat thatch of dark curls, grinning as he heard Lisa’s breath catch in her throat. He nudged her thighs apart with his shoulders as he settled between her legs, his fingers stroking her stocking-clad legs as he placed soft kisses on the inside of her thighs just above the lace-top of her stockings.

 

Lisa tugged at Ianto’s hair, trying to guide him where she wanted him most. “Stop being a bloody prat and get on with it,” she growled, running her silk covered toes down his spine to the cleft of his arse. A laugh bubbled up from her chest at his squawk of surprise only to turn into a keening moan as two of his fingers slid inside her and his mouth latched onto her clit and anything she had been about to say was lost as desire sparked in her veins before coalescing  in her abdomen.

 

Ianto groaned when Lisa tightened her grip on his hair as his fingers stroked in and out of her tight channel, he inhaled deeply and groaned as the scent of vanilla and orchid and something distinctly _Lisa_ washed over him. With a final kiss and one last stroke, Ianto reared up on the bed, pulling Lisa back onto his lap.

 

“Now, need you now,” he muttered against her lips, guiding himself to her.

 

Lisa nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck as she slowly sank down on his cock, her head thrown back as he filled her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she rested her forehead against his as they both froze when he was finally seated inside her. Lisa hummed, pressing her lips to the bridge of his nose.

 

“Love you,” Ianto whispered after a few moments silence, hands moving to grip her hips.

 

Lisa smiled. “Love you too; love you even more if you would _move_ already.”

 

Ianto grinned and thrust up into her, their gazes met and held as he set a steady pace. Her entire body was trembling and he tightened his hold on her hips. Looking up at Lisa, Ianto felt his heart clench; this was something he’d never thought he’d have the chance to do again, and he felt his heart ache at the thought that it would be ripped away from him at any moment.

 

Lisa lifted herself up before sliding down again, continuing the slow pace and meeting him thrust for thrust, wanting to make it last for as long as they possibly could. She could see the momentary flash of fear in Ianto’s eyes at the thought that he’d wake up in the morning and she would be gone. She felt the answering ache in her own chest and as much as she wanted to reassure him that it was forever, she knew she couldn’t.  Loosening her hold around his shoulders, Lisa cupped his cheek as she continued to ride him. “I will _always_ be with you, Ianto.” She stroked her thumb across his lips before moving to cover his mouth with her own in a long, unhurried kiss.

 

Ianto groaned loudly feeling her clenching around him tightly, her legs shaking with the efforts to keep her strokes slow. Every instinct in his body was telling him to just flip her over and drive himself into her until they both tumbled into bliss, but he forced himself to remain where he was and to give himself over to the moment entirely, in every way without hesitation. He tore his gaze away from her face and looked down between their joined bodies, watching his shaft disappear into her. He reached a trembling hand between them, locating her clit with his thumb and pressing down hard, making sure she brushed his thumb with every downward stroke. Lisa gasped and he felt her tighten around him again and caught the tiny smirk playing around her lips before his answering moan was swallowed by her mouth clamping over his, her tongue sliding past his lips.

 

Lisa was so very close and she sped up slightly. Tremors worked their way up and down her spine and along every single nerve in her entire body whenever she felt Ianto’s thumb against her clit. Her grip tightened on his shoulders and she pulled back from their kiss, smiling down at him before her head fell forward as she moaned. Speeding up even more, her orgasm coiling tightly in the base of her spine, the time for talking was gone and the room filled with the sounds of flesh against flesh and their breath coming in short, sharp pants, broken by the occasional whispered name or plea.

 

Ianto could feel how close she was. His heart was hammering hard and he could hear his blood roaring in his ears. His muscles were coiled tight with the effort to keep from pounding into her. He turned his head and was greeted with the inside of her elbow, pressing a quick kiss to the area before he began to nip and suck at the sensitive skin in the hopes of raising a mark. The thumb of his hand not currently occupied with helping stroke her to completion, brushed over the tattoo on her hip and he gripped her tighter. Her internal muscles started to flutter around him and half a second after she called out his name, wringing him hard, he cried out as he followed her over the edge.

 

He managed to slip both arms around her waist, holding her up as she slumped down against his chest. "Bloody hell," he groaned, feeling his legs protest as he shifted slightly, trying to get some feeling back into them. For the first time in the last six months, he felt genuinely happy.

 

Lisa buried her face in Ianto’s neck as she tried to catch her breath, her body still wracked with tiny spasms in the aftershock of their lovemaking. She felt completely boneless and sated. “You’re brilliant, you know that?” She mumbled to his skin, not even having the strength to lift her head.

 

“Mmm,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to every patch of skin he could reach and surreptitiously wiping his hand on a corner of the sheets.

 

Lisa laughed as she moved off his lap, falling back onto the bed and pulling him with her. “Some things haven’t changed, I see.” She said as she rolled to her side and felt him snuggle in behind her. “One good shag and you’re about as chatty as a church mouse.”

 

Ianto smiled and pressed a kiss to her shoulders, watching as their fingers entwined; her complexion a perfect complement to his own. “I think I’m entitled to a few minutes of brain-addled bliss,” he murmured, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “I just did something I never thought I’d be able to do ever again.”

 

Lisa sighed and rolled over in his arms, cupping his face, there were so many things she wanted to tell him, so many things she _had_ to tell him, and instead… “You should get some sleep,” she whispered, kissing the tip of his nose and chuckling at the way he rolled his eyes. “I promise I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

 

Ianto nodded and moved so his head was resting on her chest, over her heart. “I really am glad you’re back.” He said, closing his eyes.

 

Lisa nodded and ran her fingers through his hair until she heard his breathing even out and his gentle snores fill the quiet of the room. 


	8. Chapter 8

** Chapter VIII **

****

Sunday dawned and found Ianto snoring lightly with his face buried in Lisa’s chest and his arms and legs wrapped tightly around her. Lisa smiled down at the top of his head, fingers stroking the dark curls at the back of his neck; he really did need a haircut. The previous night had been spent much like their first night together after that first time; long conversations amidst languid kisses and gentle love making until Ianto – too emotionally and physically exhausted to continue – had fallen asleep for a final time in her arms sometime around three am. It was something she had missed with an unexplainable ache after dying, his arms wrapped around her and his scent on her skin. For a while, it had been like half of her soul was missing and only then had she realised just how much of their relationship she’d taken for granted. The way he would hold her – like she was the most precious thing in his world – and the way he would look at her – _really_ look at her like the sun rose and set on her – they were things she had never fully appreciated until they were gone.

 

Friday, she had thought perhaps he had finally begun to heal. The grief that had surrounded him had lessened and she had been able to relax a little before it had returned and it had echoed back to her with the strength of a train barrelling down the track. It had nearly been her undoing, watching him these past months sink even deeper into his grief. She hadn’t been totally honest when she’d said his grief had been like a klaxon, but it was the easiest way to explain how the grief of the living, echoed back to those who had died with the echoes getting weaker or stronger as time moved on and the living either grew from their loss or let it consume them. She had been so annoyed when her mother’s grief had ceased echoing back as strongly as it had after she’d first died, but she had understood why and then Ianto’s grief had ebbed, only to return with all the force of a freight train travelling at top speed and she’d felt a flash of _pleasure_ , glad that he wasn’t forgetting her at all.

 

Grabbing the corner of the blanket, Lisa tickled the tip of Ianto’s nose, giggling when he lazily swatted at his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes, as though frightened of what he wouldn’t see if he woke up too quickly.

 

“I thought you were a dream,” he said softly, tightening his hold on her just a little.

 

Lisa gave him a small smile and pressed her lips to his forehead in a quick kiss. “Time to get up,” she said, but made no move to get out of his embrace.

 

Ianto chuckled. “It’s half ten on a Sunday, why can’t we just have a lie in? Spend the rest of the day curled up in bed?” He shifted a little and pressed his lips to the centre of her chest.

 

Lisa rolled her eyes and nudged him until she could slide out of bed, wrapping herself in his dressing gown and one of the thick winter blankets he’d gotten for her the night before. “Because, it’s half _nine_ on a Sunday and we need to discuss this death trap you call a house and,” she said, turning to glare down at him. “You need to eat something that’s not soup or coffee. And don’t even think of looking at me like that Ianto Jones, I’m completely immune to that sad puppy dog look.” She reached out and flicked the bedcovers to the end of the bed when he tried to bury his face in the pillows and blankets, leaving him exposed. Reaching out, she slapped his backside, grinning at his yelp. “Up! Get up!”

 

~

 

The time since Lisa’s return had become a great big blur for Ianto, he vaguely remembered _maybe_ hearing the phone ring once or twice but he could never be too sure and he and Lisa had hidden under the piano and in the bedroom on the two occasions where Rhiannon and Mica had shown up, giggling like children as their uninvited visitors drove away, none the wiser as to where Ianto was and who he was with. It had been wonderful, he and Lisa had been holed up in the house together, away from the outside world and really, he thought to himself, what more could he have asked for? Since she’d been back, they’d spent so much time talking and playing catch up and making love and for the first time in months, Ianto felt like he had a reason to wake up in the morning and get on with his life. It was like the honeymoon they never got to have.

 

Something had changed though and Ianto couldn’t quite figure out what it was. They’d run out of things – new things – to talk about hours ago and had settled into a kind of quiet domesticity. He didn’t mind the lack of talking, he was rather fond of it actually because it gave them a chance to do other things like snuggle on the settee while watching Corrie and Emmerdale or take advantage of the tub, discussing little things like getting a haircut and making sure he ate more than just the occasional bowl of soup. They no longer woke up as entwined as they had been Sunday morning, Ianto had even stopped being afraid to open his eyes in case she’d all been a dream and Lisa had taken to getting up and getting the coffee ready. But something about this moment in particular, had changed and Ianto couldn’t quite put his finger on it and it was slowly beginning to drive him mental until he figured out what it was. He frowned as he buried himself amongst the blankets that had slowly piled up on the bed in an attempt to keep Lisa warm and comfortable, he felt ill; like he was going to be sick but not quite.

 

“Good morning, starshine, the Earth says hellooo…” Lisa sang, making Ianto want to simultaneously grin and join in and bury his head deeper into his pillow. It had been far, far too long since he’d heard her sing so off-key, it was wonderful but at the same time, it only added to his headache. She reached down and shook his shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

 

When he didn’t respond, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down so she could see his face. “Are you going in to work today?” She asked, brushing the hair back from his face.

 

“Don’t feel well,” Ianto muttered. “Migraine… and my tummy aches.”

 

Lisa reached out and pressed the backs of her fingers to his forehead and made a tutting sound as his hand flew up and held it there. “Well, there’s no fever,” she said softly.

 

“So hot,” Ianto muttered, legs moving restlessly underneath the pile of blankets. “Think I’m dying.”

 

Lisa looked at him, one eyebrow arched. “I hardly think you’re dying, besides, its bloody freezing in here. You should have someone come out to check the heating.”

 

Ianto’s eyes widened as what he’d just said sunk in. “Oh God, Lis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

 

Lisa stood up from the bed, wrapping another blanket around her shoulders. “Tea’s ready,” she said softly as she left the room.

 

Ianto got up, pulling on a pair of boxers as he went. God, the house was bloody stifling! “Lis, Lisa,” he called as he followed after her. “I’m sorry, I just… I’ve got a headache and I’m cranky and I think I am going to have to go in to work today.” He said as he stopped to look at the answering machine on the table in the hallway. Blinking, he frowned and cursed softly at the red blinking ‘22’, twenty-two missed calls, so, the phone had definitely rung once or twice since Lisa’s return.

 

“That’s all right,” Lisa said, coming up and handing him a cup of tea. “You’re forgiven.” She kissed him on the cheek before heading back into the living room.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, following her. “I mean, what will you do all day?”

 

“Oh, this and that,” she said, smiling from her place on the sofa.

 

“Right,” Ianto said slowly, taking a sip from his tea. “Well, I best go get ready for work.” He turned on his heel and stopped, looking at the wall behind the piano. “Lisa?”

 

“Hmm?” She said, pulling the blankets around her tighter. “You really ought to have someone come and check the heating Ianto, it’s like I’m sitting in the middle of the North Sea in the middle of December.”

 

“What happened to my Bond poster?” He motioned to the now-bare wall behind the piano.

 

“Oh, I moved it, I hope you don’t mind. I couldn’t sleep last night so I tidied up a little and unpacked.” She said, looking up from last week’s paper. “I can put it back if you like, but, well, I’m really a much better judge of these things, you know that, and do you really want that old thing to be the thing people see when they sit in this room?” She gave him a small, soft smile that spoke volumes on just what she thought of his ability to decorate his own house.

 

“No, no. its fine,” Ianto said, setting aside his cup and pressing his hands to his cheeks in an attempt to cool his face. “I just wish you’d said something first, that’s all.” He walked past her and stooped to press a kiss to the top of her head before he headed for the bathroom and a nice, cool shower.

 

~

 

Ianto could hear movement and muted conversations coming from behind the office door and cursed himself silently for being late. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door and slipped inside hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. He made it to his desk, frowning at the paperwork that had obviously piled up since Friday. He caught Tosh’s eye as he was about to sit and smiled at her, mouthing ‘Hi’, she nodded and offered him a small wave before returning her attention to the phone nestled between her shoulder and her ear and speaking in rapid-fire Japanese.

 

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

 

Ianto’s shoulders slumped for a moment before he spun to face John. “Sorry, I’m late, I know. Car wouldn’t bloody start.”

 

“Late?” John asked before he turned to the gentleman sitting across from him. “Juste un instant s'il vous plaît monsieur.”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Don’t stop on my account,” he muttered, pulling a pile of papers towards him.

 

“It’s Thursday, Ianto.” John said, frowning at the younger man. “We were beginning to think something had happened.”

 

Ianto froze, Thursday? He had thought, perhaps it was Tuesday, since Saturday night, time had gotten a little away from him, but he hadn’t really thought he’d lost more than a day. He blinked at the papers on his desk; at least that explained the pile-up of paperwork. “Yeah,” he began slowly. “Sorry about that, I was sick. Think it was something I ate on Sunday.”

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tosh asked as she hung up the phone. “You do look a little peaky.”

 

Ianto nodded and smiled up at her. “Feeling much better, thanks.”

 

John huffed and turned back to the man on the other side of his desk. “Yes, well, your sister called twice looking for you and Sarah-Jane rang and asked you call her back.”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes at the mention of his sister, and could only imagine the sort of tirade she went on to whoever answered those particular phone calls, but at the mention of Sarah-Jane, Ianto perked up a little. “Did she say what it was about?” He started flicking through the piles of paper on his desk, looking for the message slip with the return number on it.

 

“No,” John said, looking up at him. “And I hope whatever it was about has fallen through because she rang on Monday.”

 

Ianto sat back in his chair and watched as John went about discussing what looked to be some sort of official looking paperwork. He tried to be annoyed that he’d missed the call from Sarah-Jane, his former boss had been sad to see him leave London for Cardiff but she had understood his need to get out of the city, but with Lisa’s return he was finding it hard to be agitated over anything.

 

Smiling, Ianto leaned across his desk. “John,” he whispered loudly across to the other man, grinning when he saw the scowl. “If I promise to read every postcard from Martha for the next three months without complaint, am I forgiven?”

 

“No.”

 

Ianto beamed when he saw the corners of the other man’s lips twitch slightly before he could stop it. “Right,” Ianto said, shuffling the paperwork around on his desk. “So, Thursday… I’ve got the morning free for paperwork and then Lucia after lunch.” He muttered to himself, eyeballing his desk before he looked over at Tosh who was watching him closely. “I’m fine Tosh, honestly. Like I said, it was probably a dodgy curry on Sunday.”

 

“Okay,” Tosh said, albeit a bit reluctantly before turning back to her computer.

 

Ianto shifted aside some paperwork; he’d have to call Gwen and ask to reschedule their appointment, if he wanted the weekend free of paperwork to spend more time with Lisa, he’d need to work through lunch just to catch up before his lesson with Lucia. “Right, before I get stuck into this, how about I go and get us all some coffee?” 


	9. Chapter 9

** Chapter VIIII **

 

They had finished in the room an hour ago, Lucia’s written-English was coming along in leaps and bounds and Ianto had been pleased to see her flush with pride when he’d shown her the written work from when she’d first become his client and how slowly, over the intervening months, the Spanish had given way to English. Now, as they wandered by the bay, heading to what Lucia assured him was a wonderful little café that served fantastic coffee, he pointed at random things and asked her to tell him what she was seeing.

 

“I see… cielo,” Lucia said, looking up.

 

“English, Lucia, English.” Ianto said, offering her an encouraging smile before he prompted her again.

 

“I see sky… blue sky, and children and green sea and boats.” Lucia said.

 

Ianto nodded. “And those?” He pointed back up to the sky as they walked along the Plass.

 

“Um,” Lucia’s face screwed up and Ianto looked away as a tiny voice in the back of his head pointed out that Lisa screwed her face up almost exactly like it when she was thinking about something. “Nubes… clards…” She made a clucking noise as she wracked her brain, thinking of the right word.

 

Ianto smiled down at her. “You were almost right, ‘clouds’.” He gave the hand that rested lightly in the crook of his elbow a gentle pat. “You’re doing amazingly well, just remember to keep practicing.”

 

Lucia nodded, rolling the word around in her head before trying again. “Clouds,” she said, dragging out the ‘ow’ sound, she grinned when Ianto nodded. “I keep practicing, but sometimes…” she gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged.

 

“That’s okay, you’ll get there eventually.” Ianto said, returning her smile. “I know how frustrating it can be, especially when the word is on the tip of your tongue. When I was living in London… well, let’s just say I’m glad a lot of the diplomats I was translating for didn’t speak Welsh.” He winked and held the door to the café open for her as she laughed.

 

“Hmm, yes. Better to be frustrated in Welsh than in Spanish or English where someone might hear you,” she teased.

 

They had just sat down when a deep, heavily accented voice cried out; “Lucia!” followed by a short and hurried conversation in rapid-fire Spanish between the two friends. Ianto smiled indulgently as the man who’d called out to Lucia disappeared back behind the counter and started working the coffee machine.

 

“One espresso and one herbal tea,” Lucia said, smiling at Ianto.

 

Ianto opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the arrival of the barista and their order.

 

“Roberto,” Lucia said, motioning to the man, “this is my friend, Ianto Jones.” The man extended his hand, smiling brightly as Lucia slipped off her jacket and started folding up the sleeve of her shirt. “Ianto, my friend Roberto,” she said as she held her arm out and Roberto produced an antique-looking blood pressure cuff.

 

Nodding at Roberto, Ianto looked to Lucia, eyebrow quirked slightly. “Is he…” he made a tiny noise of distress in the back of his throat and motioned to Lucia’s swollen tummy.

 

“The father?” Lucia laughed. “No, no. He’s my doctor. The father, he was… he was…” she began to say as a dreamy smile appeared on her face. “He was lovely and handsome and someone I met at Glastonbury festival.” Her smile turned cheeky and she grinned as Roberto nodded to himself and removed the cuff. “I tried to find him, but, no matter. I want the baby.”

 

“Blood pressure is fine.” Roberto said to Lucia before turning to Ianto, “I used to be a doctor, back home.” Roberto said, smiling. “But, I come to the UK and there was no work. So I work here instead.” He tucked the cuff back in its little box and slipped it into the pocket of his apron.

 

Lucia grinned, “My parents and Roberto’s parents know each other; before I came out here they gave me his address.” She took a small sip from her cup of tea and screwed up her face. “Chamomile,” she muttered, glaring at Roberto who smiled. “Anyway, I hate hospitals, so I come to Roberto to make sure everything is fine with the baby, instead.”

 

“Hmm, si,” said Roberto, looking at Ianto. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her, Ianto. There is only so much I can do, she needs to go to the hospital, and she doesn’t listen to me.”

 

Lucia laughed and shook her head before muttering in Spanish and causing all three of them to laugh.

 

“I can try,” Ianto said, smiling at the easy way the conversation was flowing between the three of them. It reminded him a little of life with Lisa, back in London. “But I’m not sure it will do any good.”

 

“Roberto!” A voice called out from the back of the café. “Roberto!”

 

Roberto paled slightly and stood up from the table as Lucia frowned, grabbed her cup of tea and took a long slip.

 

“What the bloody hell…” A man appeared, standing over the table. “I should have bloody known.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Ianto asked as Roberto stood, facing the man.

 

“Have you paid for those?” He turned his gaze from Roberto to Ianto and Lucia.

 

“We haven’t had the bill yet.” Ianto said. He could see Lucia shifting in her seat, bracing herself against the table to stand up.

 

“A likely story,” he scoffed before turning back to Roberto. “I’ve been looking at the till, and the bills and I’ve been counting the customers and they don’t add up. I help you lot out by giving you a job when I know you’re not meant to be working… I’ve just about had it and don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing! I should report you to the bloody police and have you thrown out of the country!”

 

Roberto frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, you speak too quickly. I don’t understand.”

 

“Like hell you don’t understand,” the man said, finger out and jabbing the air between Roberto and himself. “You people are ripping me off! Helping your selves to the till! Skimming, taking without consent, robbing me blind… stealing my bloody money!”

 

Ianto watched as Roberto’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open at the accusation. When the man had finished, Roberto and Lucia began. Rapid fire Spanish filled the small café and Ianto sat, watching as Lucia’s face grew red and her gestures grew more emphatic towards the man and Roberto turned towards Ianto, hands held up in a pleading gesture.

 

“Oh for!” The man threw his hands up in the air. “Does anyone in this bloody country speak the Queen’s English anymore?”

 

“I do.” Ianto said, nodding as Roberto and Lucia both began talking, ignoring the look of shock on the owner’s face. “Hang on a second,” he said, motioning for Lucia to calm down. “Roberto?” As the other man explained to Ianto what the other man had been alluding to, the young Welshman felt his own temper flare.

 

“Well?” The owner asked.

 

“He’s saying that if anyone’s ripping anyone off, it’s you.”

 

“I bloody am not.” The man said, and Ianto could tell he was one truth away from stomping his foot like a small child.

 

Turning his attention back to Roberto, he nodded for him to continue. “He says that you promised to pay them all four pounds an hour – which is pretty criminal incidentally – and instead, you pay them only three.”

 

“They’re not paying tax!” The man thumped his fist down on the table. “They come over here, sponge off… I’m bloody paying tax.”

 

 “So they’ve been paying themselves the extra pound – after all it is their money – and they do so by not ringing up the coffees of every second customer.”

 

“How bloody dare they! See?” He did stomp his foot then. “The lot of them have been ripping me off!”

 

Ianto glared down the owner of the café, putting himself between Lucia, Roberto and the odious little man. “You’ve been ripping them off! Short-changing them in their pay packets, so they’ve been taking it from the till themselves.”

 

“They’re bloody immigrants! They should be bloody grateful I’ve given them a job.” He flung his arm out and several patrons shifted in their seats to get a better view, while several others left the shop altogether.

 

Lucia stood up reaching for her jacket and Ianto stepped aside thinking that the argument had come to an end. Roberto mumbled his apologies to both of them and went to move back towards the kitchen.

 

“I heard that!” The owner yelled. “Don’t think I don’t understand a word you’re saying. Calling me a bastard. I won’t stand for it in my shop.” He shoved Roberto then, pushing him back into Lucia and knocking the woman back into her seat.

 

Ianto opened his mouth to say something else when a gentleman shot up from his seat near the door to the café.

 

“There is nothing up my right sleeve! There is nothing up my left sleeve! There is nothing on my plate except gravy,” he said, swiping his finger through the thick sauce before popping it in his mouth. “Yum. I take a Tom Clancy novel – it must always be a Tom Clancy novel – and I throw it in the air and…” he said as he cocked his arm back before bringing it forward in a throwing motion. “Presto!” A mottled grey pigeon flew at the owner of the café, startling the man into silence. Ianto caught the stranger’s gaze and smiled, giving him a quick nod of thanks before the man turned away to face the waitress standing behind the counter. “Any chance of another cup of coffee?” He asked before sitting back down at his table.

 

The owner looked at Ianto who was busy making sure Lucia was alright before stomping off, muttering about ‘Bloody Americans and Bleeding Hearts.’

 

~

 

Jack Harkness had been watching the young man who’d entered with the Spanish woman since he’d walked past the café’s large front window. Something about the way he’d moved and held himself had captured Jack’s attention and wouldn’t let go. At first, he’d told himself that it was because he was surprised to see a man so young in such a fine suit, especially when – in his experience – ‘professional attire’ to the under thirty-five set seemed to mean denims that weren’t ripped, a button-down shirt and sports jacket. However, on second glance he thought it was the way he’d held the door open for the young woman and escorted her to her seat, again, in his experience young men – and older men alike – wouldn’t know that there was more to manners, more to being a gentleman, than just saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when required.  When their eyes had met after Jack’s impromptu magic performance – and hadn’t he timed that just right, or he was sure he’d be down the police station looking at an assault charge for hitting the coffee shop owner in the head with a book – and the younger man had smiled and nodded his thanks at the diversion, Jack knew that his interest in him was more than just a passing admiration.

 

Jack had been working up the courage to go over to the table and introduce himself when the pair had left and as a result, he’d left not very long after.  He was delighted however, when he saw them walking along the Plass, arm in arm and pointing at various things out on the bay.

 

~

 

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Ianto asked again for the fifth time.

 

“Si, si, estoy bien. I’m fine.” Lucia smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

 

“And Roberto?” He asked, looking back towards the café. It had been just over an hour since their run-in with the owner of the shop; they’d left shortly after the strange man had thrown a pigeon at the owner.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Lucia assured him. “He’s the best worker.”

 

“Hi,” a voice spoke up as Ianto and Lucia passed a small group of parked cars.

 

Ianto looked up and around and met the gaze of the magician from the café. “Hello,” he said, returning the other man’s smile.

 

“Hola,” said Lucia, grinning.

 

“Could I give you two a lift someplace?” He asked, fumbling with the set of keys in his hand and motioning to a large, black SUV.

 

Ianto turned to face Lucia, rolling his eyes at the way she batted her eyelashes at the other man. When he realised she wasn’t going to be any help, Ianto turned back to the other man. “No, thank you though. And thank you for your help earlier.”

 

“Si, gracias,” Lucia smiled before tugging Ianto along.

 

Ianto gave the gentleman a small wave before they continued on.

 

Jack sighed and watched as they walked away. “Don’t mention it,” he muttered as he slid into his car and drove off.


	10. Chapter 10

** Chapter X **

 

That night when Ianto got home, the absurdity of the day’s events finally caught up with him, and before he could get out of the car, he’d doubled up in a fit of laughter. The memory of the look on the café owner’s face as the American man had tossed that book in the air and a pigeon had appeared was worth the fact that he’d spent most of the week in a Lisa-induced haze; of course, following on the tail of that memory, had been the way the American’s bright blue eyes had sparkled when Ianto looked at him, making the Welshman’s breath catch in his throat before he turned to check on Lucia. Shaking his head and getting a hold of himself, he got out of the car and made his way inside, all of a sudden desperate to see and hold Lisa.

 

“Oh, well that’s just not right,” a very male voice greeted Ianto as he opened the front door.

 

Ianto froze with his hand on the doorknob as he peered around the door.

 

“I mean, well, just look at it. Not very clever is it?” the male voice spoke again, causing Ianto to step cautiously into the hall. Movement at the end of the hall caught Ianto’s eye and he turned, briefcase held in front of him like some kind of shield.

 

“Hello.” A young-ish looking woman with dirty blond hair smiled and kept moving into the living room.

 

“Hello,” Ianto said following her, briefcase still clutched in front of him. There was only one person who had a key to his house, and he highly doubted Rhiannon would use it, especially given the way he’d been ignoring her since last Friday.

 

“Ianto!” Lisa cried, throwing her arms around his neck as he stepped into the living room. “So glad you’re home, I couldn’t get the dvd player to work so we’ve been stuck watching repeats of East Enders.”  She made a little moue of disgust before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

 

“Uh, Lis?” Ianto asked, looking from her to the people sitting in his living room.

 

“Yes?”

 

He motioned around the living room. “Who’re all these people?”

 

“Oh,” Lisa muttered. “Ianto, these are the guys, Emily,” she said, pointing to the blond he’d seen at the far end of the hall. “Andy, but we call him Plod on account of his being a member of the heddlu, the lady over there in the Victorian Schoolmarm outfit is Harriet and this is Jonah,” she motioned around the room before her hands came to rest on the shoulders of a young boy, no more than fourteen. “Guys, this is Ianto.”

 

Ianto gave a tight smile as everyone waved or said hello. Before he could say anything else, Jonah smiled shyly. “Lisa said you’ve got all the best James Bond films,” he said softly, looking up at Ianto from beneath a flop of blond curls.

 

Ianto bit his lip and looked from Lisa to Jonah before nodding slowly. “I do. Who’s your favourite Bond?”

 

“Well,” Jonah began as Ianto walked over the set of shelves that held his Bond collection. “My mam took me to see that new one, with that blond guy in it, and that was just wicked, the way he was playing poker and then he was poisoned and then he still managed to wipe the floor with the lot of them.” He looked up at Andy who’d chuckled. “Well, it was wicked. I bet you couldn’t do that. Anyway, I liked him, but my mam, she fancied the Welsh Bond, Tom Doulton or something.”

 

“I was always a fan of Lazenby, myself.” Andy said quietly. “Vastly underrated that one.”

 

Ianto grinned. “Timothy Dalton,” he corrected Jonah. “My favourite is a toss-up between Connery and Brosnan, can never really decide.” He reached up and pulled a few dvds from the shelves. “Now, I haven’t gotten around to getting Quantum of Solace yet, but these should tide you over for a bit, yeah?” He moved and popped one into the player. “Dr. No alright with everyone else?” he asked, looking around the room.

 

When he got a few non-committal shrugs and waves from the women and a nod from Andy, he hit the play button and handed Jonah the remote. “Right, well, if that’s all then, think I’ll go clean up, been a long day.” He backed out of the living room, tilting his head silently towards Lisa who was talking to Emily and Harriet, before turning and making his way to the privacy of his bedroom.

 

It was several minutes before the door to the bedroom opened and Lisa stuck her head in. “You alright?” she asked, coming round the door to sit beside him on the bed.

 

“No… yes… I…” Ianto ran a hand over his face and flopped back on the bed. “Who are those people Lisa?”

 

Lisa frowned and lay beside him, propping her head up on her hand so she could look down at him. “They’re the guys… my friends,” she said slowly. “I thought I made that perfectly clear when I introduced them.”

 

“Your… I’ve never met them before, not in the entire four years we were together,” Ianto said softly. “What’re they doing in my living room?”

 

Lisa sighed and sat up, arms crossing over her chest and Ianto knew, that if he could see her face, she’d be pouting. “Well, you wouldn’t have met them, because their my new friends, friends from now, not before and they’re here because I asked them to come here,” she said, and he could tell that she was using whatever will power she had to keep from making that little huffing sound she made when she was annoyed with him.

 

Ianto felt the mattress dip and looked out from beneath his arm and sure enough, Lisa was pouting. “Okay, so, they’re your new friends. It still doesn’t explain why they’re in my living room and walking around my house.”

 

“I was lonely!” Lisa stood up and her pout gave way to a scowl and her hands flew to her hips. “I thought it would be nice, you’d come home from work and you and the boys could watch a Bond film together and the girls and I could have a girly chat and it would be nice and normal, but no. Fine, I’ll send them all packing, shall I?” She made to leave the room and sure enough, Ianto heard that quick, sharp little exhalation of breath through her nose and knew he’d not only stuck his foot in it, but had jammed it in there up to his knee.

 

He sighed. “No, Lisa, I just… I’m tired. It’s been a long day made even longer by some idiot in a coffee shop.” He sat up and reached out, fingers wrapping around her cool wrist and tugging her to stand between his knees. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her with wide blue eyes. “Really. They can stay and watch Bond movies, but… just no more wandering about the house, yeah?” He pressed his face against her stomach.

 

“If you’re sure…” she trailed off when he nodded.

 

“I am.”

 

“Right, well, you go and wash up and then we’ll all sit and watch a couple of your Bond movies.” She beamed down at him, fingers trailing through the curls at the nape of his neck. “You still really need to get a haircut.”

 

Ianto made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat before his head snapped up and he looked at her. “Since when do you know Welsh?”

 

~

 

Ianto stood out the front of the Millennium Centre on James Street, waiting for the bus. He’d left the car at home today, telling Lisa he could do with the fresh air when in fact it had more to do with wanting to enjoy the cold than anything else. In the two weeks that Lisa had been back, and the week since her ‘friends’ had come to stay, the house had practically become a furnace. So far he’d managed to survive by getting around the house in t-shirts and shorts, but it was slowly starting to wear on him.  In the week since he’d returned to work, he’d had to translate three postcards from Martha and had had another run-in with the owner of the café.  Roberto – at Lucia’s insistence – had called Ianto in to translate for him and a small handful of other workers as they tried to get the owner to see reason, it hadn’t gone well, with Roberto and the other employees all walking out and leaving Ianto to wish the man with the blue eyes and the magic Russian novel had been there to offer a distraction so they could all make a clean getaway.

 

He looked up as the bus pulled up to the curb, stepping back to let the wave of disembarking passengers off. He waited until the last of the group had stepped off before stepping up and walking straight into a broad chest.

 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Ianto said, looking up into a pair of bright blue eyes. “Oh, hello again.”

 

“Any time.” the bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners and Ianto stepped back. “Name’s Jack, by the way,” he said as he held his hand out. “Didn’t properly introduce myself last time.”

 

Ianto shook his hand. “Ianto, and no, though we should have; seems a bit unfair for me and Lucia to keep referring to you as The Magician,” he said, smiling brightly.

 

“I’m Brynn,” said another voice, cutting in on their conversation.

 

“Oh,” Ianto turned and came face to face with a young man wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses and holding a white cane. “Hello, Brynn.” Ianto smiled and clasped the man’s hand, giving it a firm shake before looking at Jack, eyebrow arched slightly.

 

“Do you want to come to the bay with us?” asked Brynn, and Ianto noticed for the first time that the man’s hand was wrapped tightly around Jack’s bicep.

 

“I, uh,” Ianto began, not entirely sure what to say.

 

“I don’t think today’s a good day for it, Hillsy.” Jack said, smiling at Ianto. “Perhaps another time?”

 

Ianto gave Jack a grateful smile before nodding. “Certainly, another time sounds marvellous.”

 

Brynn sighed but nodded slowly. “Another time then.” He tugged on Jack’s arm and took a tentative step forward and Ianto stepped back off the bus to let them past. “Nice meeting you Ianto.”

 

“Lovely to meet you too, Brynn, Jack.” Ianto stepped back up onto the bus and moved to get a seat.

 

He watched as Jack and Brynn joined the small group of people who had gotten off the bus before sighing and tilting his head to check his watch, if the bus didn’t hurry up and get a move on, he’d be late and…

 

“Phone number?” an American voice pulled him from his thoughts.

 

“I beg your pardon?” He looked up and found Jack waiting, mobile phone out, finger poised over the number pad.

 

“Your phone number… for another time?” Jack asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

 

“OH!” Ianto said, blushing furiously. “Right, well…” he quickly rattled off his phone number – mobile, not home – before Jack winked at him and flew off the bus, giving the driver a nod as he went. Ianto watched as Jack re-joined the small group once more, and tentatively waved back as they started calling out goodbye to him.

 

~

 

“Do you…” Ianto trailed off, looking out over the back garden from where he sat in Gwen’s office. “Do you believe that, the people we love… once they’ve died… that they can come back to us?” He looked across at Gwen, waiting for an answer.

 

“Do you mean like reincarnation?” She looked up from her notepad. “Like the Buddhists and Hindus?”

 

Ianto frowned slightly, that wasn’t exactly what he meant. “Sort of… I don’t mean like, you die and you’re going to come back as a bird or a… a slug… depending on what kind of person you were while you were alive.”

 

Gwen’s brow furrowed and she motioned for Ianto to continue.

 

“Kind of like, all that John Edwards stuff, their spirits are watching over you, keeping you safe… telling you that they’ve left five thousand pounds in an old pot buried in the back garden?” He watched her closely, watched as her lips pressed together in a tight, thin line.

 

“Personally, I think John Edwards and people like him are a load of bollocks,” Gwen began, frowning when Ianto sank back against the couch. “But, do I believe the spirits of those who’ve died, who loved us, are watching over us?” She nodded. “It can be quite a comfort, knowing that my Gran and Grandad are watching over me and my family. Why?”

 

“No reason, just…” he made a vague circular motion near his temple. “Things that go on in my head sometimes.”

Gwen nodded. “Do you still hear Lisa?”

 

Ianto chuckled and nodded. “I do,” he said, silently adding, ‘and see and smell and taste and feel her along with several of her new friends.’

 

Gwen noted something down on her pad. “How did you feel, after our last session?”

 

Ianto shrugged. “I thought I was great. Sorry again for missing last week’s session, between food poisoning and work, I just ran out of time.” The food poisoning lie had worked in good stead over the last two weeks with everyone, including his sister.

 

Gwen waved off his apology. “That’s fine, it ended up giving me a nice break and my husband was able to take me to lunch,” she looked across at him. “When you said you thought you were doing great, what do you mean?”

 

Ianto looked back out the window. “My sister and niece came ‘round on Friday afternoon and asked if they could have Lisa’s flute and I…” Ianto shrugged, “I guess I didn’t handle it too well.” He related the whole story of Rhiannon’s visit to Gwen, looking out over the backyard. “I think that’s what made me ask about people coming back or, just… being with us. Lisa’s flute… it was such an integral part of her, almost like another limb.” He shook his head as memories of Lisa when they’d first met at university flooded his mind. “I ended up taking her flute out; it’s sitting on my piano at home, just… sitting,” he said, looking up at Gwen. “The thought of giving it away to anyone makes me feel like I’m losing her all over again.”

 

Gwen smiled sadly. “I think your sister wasn’t intentionally trying to upset you.”

 

Ianto shook his head. “Nah, Rhi would never go out of her way to upset me, she just… I don’t think she understands quite what it means to me… to us.”

 

Gwen quirked an eyebrow at that and chanced a quick look at the clock. “I’m sorry, Ianto,” she said softly, reaching out to flick off the small tape recorder.

 

“We’re out of time.” Ianto stood and stretched. “Same time next week?” He asked, pulling on his jacket as she nodded. “Right, thanks Gwen.” Ianto smiled, and Gwen noticed for the first time in the two months that he’d been coming to her, what a difference to his face it made, when it was genuine.


	11. Chapter 11

** Chapter XI **

 

Ianto ran his hands through his hair before crouching and slowly going through the set of bookshelves in the dining room once again. The third time he began his search, he gave a tiny, frustrated growl in the back of his throat; it should have been here, it was one of the first things he’d unpacked when he’d first moved in, along with the rest of his working library. He reached up and wiped his brow before sitting back on his heels; he was frustrated, tired and feeling slightly claustrophobic with the sudden influx of people – ghosts, he corrected silently – that had taken up residence in his living room.

 

“What’re you looking for?”

 

Ianto would have congratulated himself on not jumping out of his skin, had it not been that in the last three weeks he’d gotten quite used to people quietly moving about the house. “I had a copy of Spanish for Dummies; Johnny bought it for me before I went off to uni.” He looked up and smiled at Lisa. “I was going to give it to John, thought it might help him when he can’t reach me.”

 

“Was the cover yellow and black?”

 

Ianto nodded.

 

“Oh, we moved them.”

 

Ianto stood up and turned slowly. “You what?”

 

“Hmm, yes. We moved them,” Lisa smiled and perched on the edge of the dining table. “I mean, it’s not like you were using it, and we didn’t move it too far, just put it in the space under the stairs along with some other things. I can move it back if you like, but, really… what’s the point if you’re just going to give it away?”

 

Ianto blinked, once, twice… three times before taking a slow deep breath and counting to ten. And when that didn’t work, he tried it in Spanish, Dutch and Welsh. “I really wish you wouldn’t move things,” he said softly. “I’m not sure what I’m going to need, when I’m going to need it, especially when it comes to work.”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Lisa. “I just… I’m trying to be helpful and make this easier on you and I’m just cocking it all up.” Her eyes welled with tears and her lower lip trembled and Ianto felt like ten kinds of prat.

 

Ianto gave a small, tight smile and pulled her into his arms. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, I wasn’t using them and you are making things easier. I’m just… being a stubborn arse. Now that I know where it is, I can dig it out and set it aside for work on Monday.”

 

He felt Lisa nod against his chest before he pulled back and swiped his thumbs across her cheeks, cupping her face. “Why don’t you go and sit with the others, I think they were talking about putting The Maltese Falcon on next. You always liked that one.” He kissed her cheek and waited until she’d left the room before running a hand over his face. For a brief moment, he wondered if this was going to be it from now on; Lisa’s new friends kipping down on his living room floor, sweltering heat – even for the middle of winter – never being able to find anything and Lisa tearing up at the first sign of conflict. As he made his way out to the space underneath the stairs, he wracked his brain trying to remember if Lisa had always been like that – tears at the first sign of conflict – and he felt a small ball of lead settle in his stomach when he realised he couldn’t _quite_ remember.

 

“Ah-ha!” He muttered, reaching into a box full of old books and pictures. He frowned as he realised that the majority of the books had been Lisa’s and he shoved aside a handful of romance novels, stopping only once to look at a small, silver photo frame and the picture of Lisa, Tasha and their mum, grinning back out at him. Finally, he’d made enough of a dent in the contents of the box that he could lift out the book he’d been after, tucking it under his arm, he scooped the rest of the books and pictures back into the box and shut the door. Ianto had just made it upstairs to his bedroom to put the book on top of his briefcase when his mobile phone went off.

 

He snatched it up off the bedside table and looked at the strange number for a moment before answering. “Hello?”

 

“Hi, it’s Jack. We met about a week ago?”

 

Ianto chuckled. “The Magician, right… on the bus with Brynn,” Ianto said, moving across the room and opening the window, enjoying the cool breeze that swept through the room.

 

A deep chuckle made its way down the line. “Yeah… about that…” Jack began. “That was less magic, more timing.”

 

Ianto smirked, remembering the bright, sparkling eyes, easy smile and the way the American had commanded the attention of everyone in the café. “What can I do you for, uh, do for you, Jack?” Ianto rolled his eyes and felt the blush heating up his cheeks.

 

 “Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to go out and get a coffee?” Jack asked.

 

“Oh!” Ianto slid the window shut and looked over at the clock on the bedside table.

 

“Well, obviously not right now,” Jack said, quickly filling the silence. “I was thinking more along the lines of tomorrow. Say two o’clock by the Millennium Centre?”

 

“That sounds great, tomorrow, two o’clock, Millennium Centre.”

 

Ianto could hear Jack’s smile. “Great, I’ll see you then. I’ll be the guy in the top hat, waving my magic wand.”

 

Ianto snorted. “Last bloke who did that out the front of the Millennium Centre was arrested for public indecency.” The line went silent for a minute and Ianto’s eyes widened as he realised what he’d just said. “Oh, God,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please tell me I did not say that out loud.”

 

Jack laughed and it was so open and genuine that it made Ianto’s heartbeat quicken slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I’m pretty sure for someone like me, they’d make an exception.”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes, feeling the blush spread to the tips of his ears. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound as his Mam used to say. “Yes, the exception that it’s not always warm in Cardiff and it takes a while for foreigners to adjust to our brisk weather.”

 

Jack laughed again. “Oh, I like you. Tomorrow at two?”

 

“Tomorrow at two,” Ianto agreed. He smiled into the phone and felt a little lighter than he had in weeks, “Bye Jack.”

 

“Bye, Ianto. See you then.”

 

~

 

Ianto looked out at the bus stop from where he was seated in the café. The small lump of dread that had taken up residence in his stomach from the moment he’d woken up, was now roughly the size of a small boulder and he wiped his sweaty palms across his thighs for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived ten minutes ago. Sighing, he reached down and picked up the few groceries he’d bought on his way out, they’d been his cover when Lisa had asked him where he was going; or part of his cover anyway, the Spanish for Dummies book had felt like a stone around his neck until he’d delivered it to John. He hadn’t been lying, not really… just omitting the truth about why he was going out and he wasn’t quite sure why; she’d never had a problem with him meeting up with friends for coffee before.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” a breathless voice spoke up behind him and Ianto nearly shot out of his chair. Jack grinned as he slipped into the chair across from Ianto. “Had a problem trying to find a park.”

 

Ianto returned Jack’s smile. “Not a problem, I, uh…” he trailed off, not really sure how to start.

 

“What’re you drinking?” Jack asked, motioning to the cup on the table in between them. His gaze drifted lower and noticed the bag Ianto was holding onto. “Oh.” Jack’s face fell and Ianto felt a tiny stab of something – disappointment, a voice in his head whispered – in his chest. “I was obviously _too_ late.”

 

Ianto looked down at the table and drew a deep breath, “Yeah, sorry, I can’t stay. I just… it’s complicated, but I’ve got to go home.”

 

“Right,” Jack said, pushing away from the table. “Lucia must be about ready to drop, right?”

 

“What?” Ianto’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Oh God no, Lucia’s not… whatever you’re thinking I guarantee you that that’s not it. Lucia’s my student.” He shook his head and looked at Jack.

 

“Then what is it? I mean, Brynn and the others are on tenterhooks,” Jack started, looking at Ianto closely. “And they’re not the only ones. I mean, I was on tenterhooks.”

 

“Are they your work?” Ianto asked, “Brynn and the others?”

 

Jack shrugged and looked at Ianto closely. “Are you sure you can’t stay? Just one cup of coffee?”

 

Ianto shook his head. “I really need to go.”

 

“At least let me drive you home?” Jack asked, blue eyes pleading and for the first time in a long time, Ianto knew that he was genuinely being the worst kind of arse.

 

“I’d much rather catch the bus.”

 

He watched as Jack seemed to turn in on himself, hands rubbing the back of his neck. Looking at his watch, Ianto sat back down and sighed, “One cup.” He said, looking around for a waitress.

 

Jack made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and shook his head. “Look, if you don’t want to be here, then don’t force yourself to stay, I just… do you even want to know my last name?”

 

Ianto motioned for the waitress and ordered another two cups of coffee, giving her a tight smile before turning back to Jack. “No, I want to be here,” Ianto said, letting the bags drop to the floor beside his chair. “This is… this is nice, I can’t remember the last time I did, well, this. But… it’s complicated, right now. Me and, and life. I wish it wasn’t, but it is.”

 

Jack looked around the café, through the glass doors leading into the Centre; he could see a small crowd had gathered around a small string quartet. “Right, so… one coffee, here’s the plan.” He turned back to Ianto and flashed him a smile. “That quartet out there,” he motioned past Ianto’s shoulder. “They’re about a minute and a half into Mendelssohn, which gives us,” he pulled out an antique looking fob, four more minutes until they’re done. One and a half minutes each to share everything, no questions from the listener, no deviations from the talker, I’ll start, you watch the clock and listen, because there _will_ be a test.”

 

Ianto laughed and nodded his thanks as the waitress bought over their coffees. “All right then,” Ianto said, raising his eyebrow and accepting the silver watch. As their fingers brushed, Ianto felt his cheeks begin to heat up and he hastily took a sip of his coffee. “Go.”

 

“Jack Harkness, thirty-six,” Jack started, his eyes bright as he managed to give Ianto an abridged story of his entire life, born in California, raised in the American Mid-West, parents still alive, both retired and living in Boca, Dad – doctor, Mom – mother and wife and confidante,  one older brother – Grey, deceased. Had moved to the UK shortly after Grey’s death, and had been inspired by his brother’s fatal accident that he now volunteered three times a week with students that were hearing and sight impaired. Unmarried, not for lack of trying, one daughter, Alice, sixteen going on forty, looks like him, has her mother’s opinions especially in regard to the man she refers to as ‘Jack’. Works for the Tenchniquest Centre, in their planetarium, affectionately known as The Hub, soon to be renamed the ‘Torchwood Dome’ due to a generous benefactor from someplace in Scotland that had bequeathed the centre a sizeable amount to replace the projectors…

 

As he spoke, Ianto couldn’t help but grin and laugh. Each little piece of information was delivered with a smirk or a flirtatious remark that connected the man in front of him to the man he’d first seen in the café with Lucia. As the second-hand on the watch approached the minute-half mark, and the quartet reached yet another crescendo, Ianto opened his mouth to call time, but Jack beat him to it.

 

“Your turn,” Jack said, smiling brightly and accepting the watch back from Ianto.

 

“Right, so,” Ianto rubbed the back of his neck. “Ianto Jones, twenty-seven, parents both passed away, um, Mam was a seamstress, Tad was a foreman. One sister, who I love, who constantly drives me up the wall, love her family, still unsure about her husband, even though they’ve been married for ten years. One niece and one nephew whom I adore, but I’m afraid think of me as weird Uncle Ianto – oh God, this is hard,” he laughed, drumming his fingers on the table as he though. “Lived in London for uni, after uni, was a translator for the embassy until the bombings, now Linguist for TARDIS,” he caught Jack’s arched eyebrow and smirked, “The A.R Davies International School, only been back in Cardiff for about ten months, have a house, it’s mine. Play the piano, love Ian Fleming, first crush was Moneypenny, second crush was Bond,” Ianto continued on, feeling his face heat up even more.

 

“Live alone, though I haven’t always, have rats, am a little bit messed up and pay someone every week for this,” he saw Jack’s look and smiled, “Talking. I’ve a counsellor, Gwen… Dr Williams. Funny how I pay her seventy-five pound for fifty-five minutes, and the most I can hope for is the occasional tissue or pat on the back, least here I get coffee! I am addicted to coffee… and chocolate, preferably dark.” As the music continued and time ticked on, Ianto spilled more and more of his life story, relaxing and slowly wishing that they were taking their time rather than rushing through it, but he made sure to carefully skirt around Lisa, her death and her ghost.

 

He opened his mouth to say something regarding his work at the School, shifting back in his seat, when a low, mournful note from a flute pierced the air. Ianto froze and turned in his seat and for a moment, he had a clear view of the area where the quartet were packing away their sheet music and instruments and he could see a dark-skinned girl, close cropped hair with Lisa’s dark eyes, looking directly at him.

 

“Ianto?” Jack asked, reaching out and touching Ianto’s arm. “Is everything okay?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Ianto mumbled, though whether it was an apology to Jack or Lisa, he couldn’t be sure. He blinked and the flautist was still there, but instead of Lisa’s pixie-styled haircut and big brown eyes, the woman tilted her head and Ianto could see a mass of dark curls pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Pulling himself together, he pulled out his wallet and set down two, five pound notes on the table. “I’m sorry, I… I have to go.” He gave Jack a sad smile, grabbed his bags and fled to the bus stop, jumping onto the first bus that pulled up.

 

Jack had followed him to the bus stop, but wasn’t quite fast enough and from where Ianto sat, he could see the older man’s shoulders slump and his face darken slightly. Turning away, Ianto rubbed his hand over his face and noticed that he was crying. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get a hold of his emotions, unsure as to which was upsetting him more: the thought of Lisa – _Lisa’s ghost_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind – at home, waiting for him while he flirted with a stranger, or the fact that he’d more than likely just ruined any chances for any kind of relationship with the charming American he’d run away from. He slumped down in his seat and closed his eyes; all he wanted to do now, was get home, wash the day away and go to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter XII **

 

It had been two weeks since his ill-fated coffee meeting with Jack. He couldn’t bear to think of it as a date, because it hurt too much to think how his running out had hurt the other man. He opened the door to his house and silently made his way upstairs. He could hear laughter coming from the living room and closed his eyes as he slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door. John had finally approached him today and asked him if he’d wanted the Spanish for Dummies book returned, and when Ianto had asked him why he’d even think that, he’d held up the book, opened it to the cover page where, in his sister’s handwriting was a dedication to Lisa. His heart had hammered in his chest and he had felt his palms grow clammy. He’d been positive Johnny had given it to him; it was part of his working collection. He’d taken a deep breath, shaken his head and told John to keep it, he certainly didn’t need it.

 

Stripping out of his suit, he made his way to the bathroom and the tub. The house was – as was usual – warm enough that he was positive that if he tried hard enough, he could come down with a tropical disease like dengue fever or some such. He shut the door and opened the bathroom window a little as he ran the tub, enjoying the cool breeze that rippled through the bathroom. He turned the taps off when he was satisfied with the water level and sank down into the tub, letting his head drop back over the side and closing his eyes, letting the warm water and the sanctuary of the bathroom ease some of the tension in his body.

 

He’d seen Jack today, he and Lucia had been doing a slow circuit of the Plass when a mini-van had pulled up out the front of the Millennium Centre and Jack had jumped out, helping out several people with white canes. He’d gently guided Lucia away from the group and back towards the bay.

 

“Long day?”

 

Ianto yelled and jumped, sloshing water over the side. “Lisa!” He turned his head, rubbing his neck where it had slammed into the rolled top of the bathtub. “The door was shut!”

 

“Hey, Ianto,” Andy’s voice called softly as the door to the bathroom swung open and his head poked around the side.

 

“Oi!” Ianto jerked his knees up to his chest and glared at the former police officer. “The door was shut!”

 

“Sorry,” Andy said, raising his hands and back out of the room. “Just had a question is all, but it’s okay, I can wait.” The door closed on the man’s mumblings and Ianto let his legs stretch out and closed his eyes.

 

“He only wanted to talk to you, Ianto.” Lisa said, her eyes showing her displeasure at Ianto’s behaviour. “We only wanted to talk to you. But, I can see that you’ve had a long day and that rat-man is coming back later this afternoon. Don’t know why, not like the rats are hanging about any more, not since we came.” She frowned and stood up. “When you’re ready to come down and talk to us like human beings, and once you’ve stopped sulking over whatever it is that’s making you such a crabby bastard, we’ll be in the living room.”

 

Ianto waited for the sound of her stomping feet, but when none came, he cautiously opened one eye and looked around the bathroom just in time to hear the bathroom door slam so hard it rattled the medicine cabinet above the basin. “Fuck,” he muttered softly to himself before sinking completely beneath the water.

 

~

 

“Well, they’re gone. I know that much.” Owen said, shoving his gear into the back of his truck.

 

“Are you sure?” Ianto chewed on the edge of his thumbnail.

 

“Positive, no bodies, no nests… it’s like you didn’t even have a problem to begin with.” Owen slammed the truck shut and looked over at Ianto. “If it weren’t for the fact that I saw the original infestation and took those three dead bodies with me last time, I’d have said coming out here was a waste of my time.” He shook his head. “Even with the more humane traps, they should be full. Hell, they should have been full weeks ago, I was beginning to think you’d given up and sold the place or had just gotten used to the smell of dead rats.”

 

Ianto shook his head and turned to look at the house. “No chance,” he said, mouth turning downwards as he thought he saw movement at the bay window. “Any chance of them coming back?” He asked, turning back to Owen.

 

Owen shrugged. “Couldn’t really say for certain, can make an appointment to come back in about six months if you like?” He pulled out a PDA when Ianto nodded and began tapping away at the screen. “How’re you doing, Ianto?” he asked after a few moments silence.

 

“Fine, why?” He looked back over his shoulder at the house.

 

“Hart’s been… worried…” he trailed off, following Ianto’s gaze. “Said he came ‘round the Saturday night after he finished the kitchen cupboards and offered you a week in Paris and you turned it – and him – down. Told him if I were you I’d have knocked him back too. Bloody ego centric git.”

 

“He was drunk,” Ianto frowned and turned back to face Owen. “And as much as I like him, as a friend, I just… I’m not ready, and even if I was ready… not with him. He’s too…” Ianto trailed off trying to find the right words.

 

Owen held up his hands and shook his head. “I really don’t want to hear it.” He looked at Ianto and frowned. “He said you left him on the doorstep and he could hear you calling for Lisa to come back.”

 

Ianto felt his stomach plummet to the concrete path. “I… it was…”

 

“I told him that he was an idiot and he should mind his own business; told him that, five years on and I still talk to Katie.” Owen moved around the car and Ianto followed. “Everyone grieves differently, Ianto. If you want to talk to your dead girlfriend, far be it for us to tell you otherwise. Just so long as you don’t let it consume you, you’ll be fine.”

 

Ianto looked at Owen as he got into the work truck and started the engine. “What happens if I do?” his voice was soft and he couldn’t be sure if he’d asked it out loud or not.

 

“You end up a lonely, bitter bastard like me.” Owen grinned and nodded to the back of the truck. “With nothing but rats for company and the occasional warm, if slightly drunk, body in your bed.” When Ianto failed to laugh or respond in anyway, Owen frowned. “The number one thing you have to ask yourself, Ianto is: Would Lisa want you to stop living your life, because she can’t live hers?” When Ianto finally met his gaze, he smiled, nodded once. “Right, see you in about six months.” Ianto stepped back and Owen pulled away from the curb and drove off down the street.

 

Ianto stood and faced the house, watching the window for any signs of movement within as he turned what Owen said over and over in his head. He took a step closer to the house and stopped, to anyone watching from their windows, he looked like he was ready to bolt, but couldn’t make up his mind whether it was away from or back into the house. A frustrated growl worked its way out of his throat and Ianto scuffed his toe along the pavement, Lisa wouldn’t have wanted this; wouldn’t have wanted Ianto to hole himself up in a house with his ghosts for company. Running his hands through his hair, he tugged at the still-damp strands in frustration before running back into the house and back up the stairs. Grabbing his keys, jacket and wallet, he rushed back down the stairs and out the front door, making sure to lock up on his way.

 

He slid into his car, grateful for once that he hadn’t yet locked it away in the garage and turned the engine over. Pulling out of the short driveway, he turned and made his way down the street and towards the city centre.

 

~

 

The Hub hadn’t been too hard to find, the dome was adjacent to the Techniquest building. He moved quietly among the students and other visitors, heading towards the planetarium,  the closer he got, the harder his heart pounded in his chest. He stopped just outside the doors to the large room, he could hear Jack’s voice even through the closed double doors and he almost turned around and walked away, but the doors flew open and Jack was there, back to Ianto and whether he liked it or not he was going to have to bite the bullet and speak to him now that he’d seen him.

 

“Right kids, if you’ll just follow Ms Costello, she’ll take you onto the next part of the to – oof, sorry.” He had stepped back and right into Ianto.

 

The group of children giggled and tittered as Ianto felt his face heat up. “Sorry, I should have moved.”

 

Jack had spun around and was watching Ianto closely. “Ianto, hi,” he said before turning back to the children now whispering amongst themselves. “C’mon, quiet down. Now, if you all follow Ms Costello, she’ll take you on the next part of the tour before your buses will be here to pick you up.”

 

“Right, in pairs, no talking and don’t even _think_ about wandering off.” The stern looking young woman called out, clapping her hands together to get the kids attention. As they lined up and moved off, she nodded and smiled at Ianto before turning to Jack. “Tonight?” she asked, voice lowered so little ears wouldn’t hear too much, head tilted in question.

 

Jack shook his head, “Got another private booking. Raincheck?” She nodded. “Thanks, Suzie.” He watched as she marched the students away, a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as she turned just in time to glare one of the older boys back into line.

 

Ianto had been holding his breath, waiting for the students to leave and watching Jack as closely as he could without drawing attention to himself. His pulse sped up when he watched the corners of Jack’s mouth twitch up and his eyes sparkle as he watched the students walking away. “Hi,” he said as Jack turned to look at him, smile and light completely disappearing from his face.

 

“If you’re here to make a private booking, you’ll need to contact the centre directly and speak to Lois.” Jack said before he turned and made his way back into the spacious room. Ianto felt his heart twist in his chest, he deserved that and he knew it, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

 

He stepped up to the double doors and watched as Jack went about picking up stray bits of paper and crisp packets. “I was wondering if we could… talk?” Ianto asked, frowning when Jack paused and his shoulders slumped a little.

 

“Look,” Jack began, walking to the large orbital projector in the middle of the room. “You seem like a great guy, but – and I mean this in the nicest way possible – you’ve got problems. One minute, I think we might be connecting, the next you’re freaking out and running off without an explanation. I…”

 

“I had a girlfriend…a fiancée,” Ianto interrupted, stepping into the dome and letting the doors swing shut behind him. “She died seven, no, eight months ago, two days after I asked her to marry me.”

 

Jack sighed, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

“So am I,” Ianto said, leaning against one of the seats and watching as Jack fiddled at the laser projector. “We hadn’t even had a chance to tell anyone, not even her parents and instead of celebrating a life together, there I was a week to the day I asked her to marry me, giving her eulogy. We were together four years.”

 

Jack turned and looked at Ianto, brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

 

Ianto shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Wanted you to know, I guess. Wanted to apologise for running off the way I did… wanted to see you again.” He scuffed his toe over the floor, looking anywhere but directly at Jack. When the silence seemed to stretch between them, Ianto bit back a sigh and nodded slowly. “So… now you know. Bye, Jack.” He turned on his heel and left the planetarium.

 

Jack looked up from where he stood behind the laser projector and watched Ianto’s retreating figure as the doors swung shut behind him. He was genuinely sorry for the guy, he knew how much it hurt to lose a loved one, but could only imagine the kind of hurt one suffered after someone dying so unexpectedly, especially after just becoming engaged. However, Jack wasn’t in the mood to be played around by people who didn’t know what they wanted and from where he was standing, Ianto put walls up just as quickly as he tore them down. He sighed when a niggling little voice in the back of his head told him he was being unfair and that he was basing his entire opinion of the man on how he’d reacted during a two minute conversation and glimpses of behaviour from afar. Powering down the dome, Jack grabbed his jacket from where he’d flung it at the start of the presentation earlier that afternoon and hurried to catch up to Ianto, praying that he wasn’t too late.

 

~

 

Ianto had just started the engine of his car, head falling forward to rest on the steering wheel, he felt like the world’s biggest pillock and he wished Cardiff would open up and swallow him whole. Straightening up, he nodded as the beginnings of a plan began to form: ‘Go home, kick the ghosts out, get drunk.’ Sounded like one of his better ideas in the wake of this failed one. He reached for his seatbelt and nearly jumped through the roof when there was a tap on the driver’s window and Jack leaned down to speak to him. He turned off the engine and wound the window down.

 

“What’re you doing tonight?” Jack asked.

 

Ianto laughed. “Getting drunk and wallowing in self-pity. Why?”

 

Jack grinned and opened the door. “Change of plan, you and I are going to have fish and chips and watch the Aurora Borealis, and talk… like normal people.” He motioned for Ianto to get out of the car.

 

Ianto wound up the window and undid his seatbelt but stayed where he was. “I thought you had a private booking?”

 

Jack shrugged. “I always have a private booking when Suzie asks,” he said, giving Ianto a sheepish smile. “She keeps trying to set me up with a cousin of hers, met the guy once and that was more than enough for me.”

 

“Right,” Ianto said slowly, getting out of the car. “And the fish and chips?”

 

“Harry Ramsdens is about a three minute walk. By the time we get back most everyone should be gone for the night.” Jack looked at his watch before continuing. “Save for the cleaners, but, we’ll be going straight to the Hub.”

 

Ianto nodded and locked the car before slipping his keys and his wallet into his pocket. “So this is…”

 

“Consider it your way of making things up to me,” Jack smiled and Ianto felt his pulse speed up a little. “Besides, how many times can you say that you had fish and chips while watching the Aurora Borealis over Cardiff Bay?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter XIII**

 

It was odd, Ianto thought; to see the sky so filled with dancing light. He speared a chip with a little plastic two-pronged fork and looked over at Jack who was sprawled out on the floor, looking up at the ceiling with his hands tucked behind his head. They’d been back in the dome for at least forty-five minutes and hadn’t really said anything of great consequence. Oh they’d talked about work, Jack’s volunteering at the local school for sight and auditory disabilities, Lucia, the owner of the café and Jack’s apparent magician-like qualities, but they hadn’t _talked_.

 

The silence stretched on for a few more minutes before Jack spoke up. “How’d she die?”

 

Ianto sighed and set aside his now-empty chip parcel. “Respiratory failure brought about by acute anaphylaxis. She had an allergic reaction to penicillin,” he began. “Acute, adult on-set, the doctors said. She’d been complaining of a sore throat for days, and finally the doctor prescribed her some antibiotics, by the time the reaction had occurred and we realised what was happening, her throat was closing up, she went into cardiac arrest when the doctors tried to clear her airway. The death certificate said ‘Lack of oxygen to the brain’.”

 

Jack frowned. “She didn’t know she was allergic?”

 

Ianto shook his head. “Doctor said it’s possible for an allergic reaction to appear later on in life. Almost like the body no longer recognises the benefits, but sees it as a threat. Prolonged exposure to the antibiotic…” he trailed off and rolled his shoulders, tilting his head to look up at the projected sky. “Her parents would know more than I do. I wasn’t really… It didn’t really sink in at the time.”

 

Jack nodded slowly, his gaze flicking from the roof of the dome to Ianto. He knew grief and he knew guilt over the death of a loved one, he opened his mouth to say exactly that when he thought better of it. “So, the day at the Millennium Centre…” he trailed off and looked at Ianto expectantly.

 

“She was a flautist,” he said softly. “I thought, for a minute…” Ianto shook his head. “I really don’t want to talk about Lisa right now.” He twisted and smiled down at Jack. “Don’t get me wrong, I will… want to… just, not now.” He flopped onto his back and looked up at the dancing lights. “So, stars huh?”

 

Jack reached out blindly and grabbed the remote, clicking it twice to change the image of the dome to one of the Milky Way. “Yeah, stars,” he said, before slowly navigating Ianto through the galaxy and several major constellations.

 

~

 

Ianto fiddled with his keys as they approached his car. The night had – after that initial conversation about Lisa – been great, Jack had been funny, smart and Ianto had found himself feeling more at ease with Jack than he had felt with anyone in a long time; he had laughed and teased and been teased in return. He looked around the empty parking lot, save for his car and Jack’s SUV.  “I had a really great time tonight, Jack,” he said as they came up to his car. He leant against the door and smiled at the other man.

 

“Me too,” Jack said, eyes darting from Ianto to his car and back again. “Perhaps we could do it again sometime, maybe in a real restaurant?”

 

Ianto laughed at the way the corners of Jack’s eyes crinkled and his lips twitched in a cheeky grin. “I’d like that a lot.” He spun his key ring around on his finger as silence settled over them and the air crackled with tension. God, he felt like an awkward teenager on his first date; not sure whether he should just get in the car and drive off, or kiss Jack on the cheek goodnight or shake his hand or… In the end Jack had taken the decision out of Ianto’s hands and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Ianto froze; eyes wide and his keys hanging limply from his finger, he saw Jack’s eyes spring open and felt him begin to pull back and that was when his brain finally kicked itself back into gear. Moving quickly, he followed Jack and clutched at dark blue-grey material of the man’s trench coat to keep him in place.

 

Jack’s hands flew up and cupped his face, holding Ianto in place as his tongue flicked out against his lips. Ianto flattened his hands against Jack’s chest as the kiss deepened, feeling the rapid beat of Jack’s heart and the shift of firm muscles underneath his coat and shirt. He had forgotten this, forgotten the subtle differences in kissing a man; tongues battling for the upper hand, strong fingers cupping and tracing rough jawlines and the angles and planes of broad shoulders and a toned chest. They pulled apart, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm down. When he was sure he’d calmed down somewhat, Ianto tilted his head and pressed a quick kiss to Jack’s jawline, relishing in the rasp of a barely-there five o’clock shadow against his lips.

 

“Ianto,” Jack said softly.

 

Ianto took a step back and bumped into his car, feeling his cheeks flush and desire and the thrill of something new pool low in his belly. “Right,” he said, fumbling for his keys.

 

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Jack asked, the question echoing loudly around the deserted car park. “Coffee, we can… it’s still relatively early, we can have coffee and talk some more?”

 

Ianto looked down at the keys in his hand and back up at Jack. “Your car or mine?” he asked, “Or, I could follow you?”

 

Jack looked from Ianto’s sedan to his SUV on the other side of the parking lot; it wasn’t the first time he’d left it here overnight, the security guys did a great job of keeping an eye on the lot… He looked back to Ianto, who was jiggling his keys, waiting for an answer. If they took both cars there was nothing stopping Ianto from having another attack of grief and guilt and driving off, if they took Jack’s car and Ianto decided that he wanted to leave after coffee, they’d have to drive back out here and collect his car or call him a cab. “Yours,” Jack said, flashing Ianto a quick grin.

 

~

 

They had been driving for not quite ten minutes when Ianto pulled the car over and killed the engine.

 

“Ianto?” Jack asked. He’d been drumming his fingers on his thighs since they’d pulled out of the Techniquest parking lot.

 

Ianto flashed Jack a nervous smile and unclipped his belt. “Back in a tic,” he said, slipping from the car and dashing around the bonnet and towards a line of shops.

 

Jack watched until Ianto disappeared around the corner, his heart sinking at the thought of Ianto having abandoned his car just to get away from Jack. “Idiot, Harkness.” He muttered to himself, reaching for his mobile. He’d lock the car up and call a cab to take him back to the centre and his waiting car. He jumped when the driver’s side door opened and Ianto slid back into his seat.

 

“Sorry, just… forgot I needed something.” Ianto smiled and held up a bright red toothbrush. He indicated and pulled back away from the curb. “My breath probably smells rank after all that fish and vinegar, not to mention the pickled onion.” He cast a quick glance to the phone in Jack’s hand. “Is everything okay?” his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

 

“What?” Jack dragged his gaze away from the toothbrush to the phone in his hand. “Oh! Yeah, I just… want to send a text to the security guys at the centre, let them know my car’s in the lot.” His smile grew nervous and he shoved the phone back into his pocket.

 

~

 

“So,” Ianto began as Jack set about getting them each a drink. “How did you really come to be in Wales?” Jack grinned over his shoulder as he wrestled the coffee maker into submission. Ianto grimaced and stepped up to Jack. “Do you mind?” he motioned to the coffee maker and gently usurped Jack’s position when the other man shook his head. As Jack stepped back, his grin turned to a questioning sort-of smile. “Misspent youth working in a caf on the weekends,” he said by way of answer as he gently coaxed the machine into working.

 

“Right,” Jack said, leaning back against the bench. “As stupid as it sounds, I fell in love with the place.”

 

Ianto smiled. “You fell in love with Wales?”

 

“Why does everyone sound like I’ve lost my mind when I say that?” Jack asked. “I was doing a tour of Europe the summer after my freshman year of college and wanted to see Greenwich. While I was in London, I decided I’d organise a couple of castle tours  and spent a week on a bus travelling around Wales looking at some of the most amazing countryside and castles I’ve ever seen.” He shrugged, “it helps that it’s only a half hour flight to Edinburgh if I need to go to the ATC, or, if I’m feeling really adventurous, a six and a half hour drive.”

 

Ianto turned and held out a cup of coffee towards Jack. “Does it take you to Edinburgh often, your job?” he asked, watching as Jack took a sip of coffee. The tiny groan slipping past the other man’s lips sending a small spike of pleasure down Ianto’s spine to settle low in his belly.

 

“Oh God,” Jack took another sip. “This is amazing, and sometimes. Not often, the Hub keeps me busy, but when there’s a breakthrough with new tech or a symposium on a new discovery…” he trailed off, and met Ianto’s amused gaze. “What?”

 

Ianto shook his head. “Nothing, just… thanks.” Jack smiled and motioned for Ianto to follow him into the sitting room. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, sipping quietly at their coffee. The awkward silence seemed to stretch between them and Ianto fiddled with his mug. Sighing, he set the mug down on the small table in front of him. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.

 

“I’m sorry?” Jack asked, setting his own mug aside.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Ianto said again, waving a hand between them. “When you invited me back for coffee, I wasn’t really expecting coffee.” He raised an eyebrow in Jack’s direction.

 

“Oh,” Jack frowned. “Ohh,” he said again, unable to help the tiny quirk of his lips.

 

“Hmm,” Ianto smiled as he remembered the feel of Jack’s lips on his not twenty minutes ago. “I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

 

A dry chuckle worked its way up Jack’s chest. “I really did have honest intentions when I invited you back,” he said, reaching forward to collect Ianto’s coffee mug. Heading back to the kitchen, he called over his shoulder. “We can take this as slow as you like, we’re neither of us going anywhere.”

 

Ianto frowned as Jack left the sitting room for the kitchen. He was ninety-seven per cent sure that this was what he wanted, that Jack was _who_ he wanted; he thought he’d made that clear when he accepted the invitation for coffee. Running a hand through his hair – he could hear Jack still talking – he got up and quietly made his way towards the kitchen.

 

Jack turned to come back into the living room, only to be confronted with Ianto advancing on him. “No pressure…” He trailed off as Ianto’s hands cupped his jaw and gently brushed their lips together. A tiny rumble of a groan slipped past Jack’s lips at the barely-there contact and his own hands came up to rest on Ianto’s hips and as he pulled Ianto closer, he deepened the kiss; his tongue teasing Ianto’s mouth open before delving inside to chase the taste of the coffee they had shared. Desire coursed through Jack’s veins as Ianto nipped at his lower lip, drawing it between his teeth and tugging on it lightly before pulling back; his hands tightened their grip and he urged Ianto closer, pulling him flush against the bulge in his trousers.

 

Ianto pulled back, his forehead resting against Jack’s as he tried to control the rapid pounding in his chest. He pressed chaste kisses to the corners of Jack’s mouth and as their noses rubbed, the first thought he had was ‘Warm’, followed quickly by ‘More’.  He moaned when he felt hands slide along the waist of his jeans to rest just above his belt buckle. “What was it you were saying about pressure?” Ianto asked, leaning back slightly to look Jack in the eyes.

 

Jack blinked slowly, fingers tracing lazy patterns across the heavy buckle of Ianto’s belt as he tried to process everything. “If,” he began but had to stop to clear his throat. “We can take our time, there’s no pressure. If you’re not ready for this kind of…”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes. “Jack, believe me when I say I want this… want you.” Off Jack’s look, he gave the other man a tiny little smirk, rolled his hips and bit back a groan as their erections rubbed together through the layers separating them. Jack muttered something as his eyes slid shut and pleasure shot along his spine. Grabbing Ianto’s hand, he dragged him out of the kitchen and through the flat to his bedroom. A laugh bubbled up in Ianto’s chest at the look of determination on Jack’s face as he navigated bric-a-brac befitting an employee of Techniquest and astronomer, but was cut short as Jack pulled him into the bedroom. Heat pooled low in his belly as Jack’s determination was turned on him and bright blue eyes shone with something Ianto hadn’t seen – or felt – directed at him in a very long time.

 

Jack dropped Ianto’s hand and approached him almost cautiously, his hands moving to tug at the belt buckle as his lips met Ianto’s in a fierce kiss. He moaned into the younger man’s mouth as he felt strong fingers kneading at his shoulders whilst his own began the process of stripping him out of his jeans and t-shirt. A sharp bark of laughter filled the room as Ianto lurched forward in an attempt to kick his jeans off, only to find himself tangled in denim and his sneakers. Chuckling, Jack reached down and undid his boots as Ianto kicked off his trainers before straightening and kissing Ianto again. He swallowed Ianto’s groan as his fingers traced the hardness beneath Ianto’s briefs, stepping back momentarily to shuck his button-down and undershirt as Ianto pushed his trousers down over his hips. Jack’s loud groan reverberated around the room as Ianto’s lips found the spot on Jack’s neck that saw him seeing stars and he began the awkward dance that would take them from the doorway to the bed.

 

“Oof!” Ianto’s eyes flew open as he landed on top of Jack. Bracing himself with his forearms on either side of Jack’s head, he looked down and into the eyes of the man who had, in just a short while, had given him something warm and solid to grasp on to when it felt like his grief – and his ghosts – would drown him; tilting his head, he caught Jack’s lips in a languid kiss. Eventually pulling back, Ianto trailed his kisses to the spot that had gotten a reaction only moments ago and began to suck and nip at the patch of skin where Jack’s neck met his shoulder.

 

“Oh, God.” Jack gasped, his hips thrusting against Ianto’s, his hands scrabbling to work their way into the waistband of Ianto’s pants, even as he tried to shimmy out of his own. “Ianto,” he said, nudging the other man, even as each groan and rumbled from the Welshman sent bolts of desire coursing through his blood to coil somewhere low at the base of his spine. “Ianto,” he said, trying again. “We need… Ianto…”

 

“Jacket pocket.” Ianto mumbled into the skin he was soothing with his tongue in an attempt to ease the livid purple-red mark he’d created.

 

“Wait, what?” Jack froze in his thrusting and Ianto groaned, dropping his head to rest on the mattress. “What about your jacket pocket?”

 

“Slick and condoms.” Ianto lifted his head and looked down at Jack, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to figure out what else they might have needed.

 

“I want to get our pants off,” Jack said, sucking in a great lungful of air in an attempt to calm down, but there was a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Is that what you disappeared to buy when we stopped, or do you always walk around with lube and condoms in your pocket?” He laughed a low, throaty chuckle when Ianto nodded. “I like the way you think, Ianto Jones,” he said, his fingers easing under the waistband of Ianto’s pants to draw feather-light circles around the head of his cock.

 

“Right,” Ianto moaned, dislodging Jack’s hands and rolling to the side, shifting so he could slide his briefs over his hips and down his legs.

 

Jack watched as his erection sprang free, his gaze travelling the path from the smattering of hair on Ianto’s chest, down to the trail of dark hair that led for his navel to the thatch of dark curls at the base of his cock.

 

“Jack,” Ianto said warningly, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock.

 

Jack nodded and shimmied out of his own pants. He watched as Ianto began to move his hand; long fingers dancing up the vein in the underside, thumb circling the head, collecting and spreading pre-come to ease the slow slide of his fist. Swallow several times, he managed to drag his gaze away long enough to fumble in the bedside drawer for the small bottle of slick he kept there; tossing it onto the bed, he moved to join Ianto once more.

 

Ianto wriggled back on the bed, grinning at the look on Jack’s face. Reaching out, her cupped Jack’s erection, his palm sliding down the shaft as his fingers gently massaged his balls before working his way back up once more. Something in his gut tightened at Jack’s groan before the older man straddled Ianto’s hips, grinding their erections together. Ianto reached out for the lube, even as he pulled Jack down for a messy kiss – all teeth and lips and tongue, his own pleasure building at the sound of Jack’s and the feel of Jack’s cock against his. It was awkward, but together they managed to flick open the cap and squeeze a generous amount of slick onto Ianto’s unoccupied hand. Jack – balancing himself on one elbow – wrapped his free hand around both their cocks as Ianto’s joined it, forming a tight channel for them to thrust into. The feeling of their combined hands and warm, flushed skin against warm, flushed skin was enough to send Ianto careening over the edge as the pleasure that had been building and tightening finally shattered. He cried out as he came in several short spurts of warm come all over his belly and their joined hands.

 

Jack gave a yell as Ianto flew apart beneath him, one… two… three more thrusts and he followed suit. The coil of heat and desire that had been spurring him onward finally snapped and his head fell forward even as his grip on their cocks tightened slightly. He stayed that way until even the slight aftershocks had stopped and he felt Ianto shift beneath him; rolling to the side, he pushed himself off the bed. “Don’t move,” he said softly, making his way to the bathroom.

 

“Don’t think I can,” Ianto muttered to himself, he heard a tap turn on then off before Jack reappeared, holding a damp wash-cloth.  “Hmmm,” he hummed as the warm cloth was applied to his belly and hand. “S’nice,” he muttered, opening one eye to watch as Jack wiped him down.

 

Jack smiled and tossed the cloth into the washing hamper in the corner of the room. “Wasn’t what I had in mind, but… yeah,” He teased lightly, poking Ianto in the hip. “Shove up.” He watched as Ianto moved around until he was lying on the bed properly. Chuckling at the way Ianto seemed to bonelessly flop back against the pillows, he slid into bed beside him. “Stay for a while?” Jack asked softly.

 

Ianto nodded. “I’d like that, yeah.” 


	14. Chapter 14

** Chapter XIV **

 

No one said anything when Ianto got home late Saturday evening after his Friday night with Jack. He was positive there had been some kind of hushed discussion behind the door to the living room as he’d moved up the stairs to bed, but he paid it no mind, preferring instead to think about his evening with Jack on the floor of the planetarium and then back at the other man’s flat. He stripped in silence – the occasional laugh or gasp filtering up to his room from the group downstairs, crowded around his television – and crawled into bed, curling up on his side under the covers. When he felt the mattress dip behind him and cool arms wrap around his waist, he closed his eyes and feigned sleep until he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

 

~

 

“He sounds like a keeper,” Lucia teased him as they made a slow circuit of the Plass.

 

Ianto rolled his eyes. “It was one date… you know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were having extra lessons.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Lucia laughed.  She opened her mouth to say something else and gasped as pain shot through her abdomen and she clutched at her stomach. “Dios mio!” She clutched at Ianto’s arm with her free hand, nails digging into his bicep, “¡ay ¡ay ¡ay.”

 

“Lucia?” Ianto’s face paled as a wave of panic washed over him. As carefully as he could, he manoeuvred them over to one of the large cement steps. “What is it? Is it the baby?”

 

Lucia nodded, her face tight even as she lifted her head and smiled at him, dark eyes sparkling.

 

“Shit,” Ianto muttered, fumbling in his pockets for his mobile. “Right, ambulance.” He quickly dialled emergency services, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for the operator to connect him to the service he needed. He watched as Lucia rocked back and forth slightly, one hand holding her tummy, the other gripping his arm all the while muttering in Spanish to herself, to the baby and cursing someone named Alonso, who he could only assume was the father. He finally rattled off what was going on to the dispatch operator before closing his mobile with a snap and tucking back into his pocket. “Right, the ambulance is on their way Lucia,” Ianto said calmly, patting her hand somewhat awkwardly. “Is there anyone else I can call?”

 

Lucia nodded and looked up at Ianto pleadingly, “John, call John, please.”

 

Ianto frowned. “John? John who?”

 

A growl tore its way out of Lucia’s throat and Ianto shifted nervously from foot to foot, aware of the stares they were receiving. “Bloody Welshmen,” she muttered. “Smith!  Doctor Smith!”

 

Ianto’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows flew up. “Right, John!” He fumbled with his phone again and breathed a sigh of relief as the wail of a siren pierced the air. “John!” he said, grimacing as Lucia’s hold tightened even more. “Lucia’s gone into labour, oh God, I hope its labour, and we’re on our way to the hospital… Right… See you there then.” He hung up just as the paramedics approached them. His haze of grief the past two months had obviously blinded him to a lot more than he realised.

 

“You the husband?” A voice broke through his thoughts and Ianto turned to face the medic, eyes wide.

 

He shook his head as Lucia laughed. “No, her friend,” he shot the woman a glare over the medic’s head as they got her up onto a stretcher and she made a sly remark about Jack in rapid Spanish. He replied to her just as fast, commenting about her relationship with John. Her laughter this time was broken by a strained gasp and Ianto paled. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

 

The paramedic chuckled and shook his head. “Into the ambulance then, both of you.”

 

Ianto followed, clutching Lucia’s hand tightly. “John’s going to meet us at the hospital. Said don’t start without him.” Lucia nodded and gripped his hand tightly before he had to move to give the paramedic room to work.

 

~

 

He walked in the front door and hung up his jacket, he fumbled with his mobile for a few seconds, watching as the screen lit up to reveal a picture of him holding a small, tightly wrapped bundle, a tiny tuft of dark hair poking out from the pale lilac snug. John had hastily snapped the picture – at Tosh’s and Lucia’s insistence – before returning Ianto’s phone to him and accepting the small bundle while her mother dozed.

 

Ianto had been sitting in the car for the last twenty minutes, working up the courage to come inside and face Lisa. The quick delivery of Lucia’s daughter, and holding her in his arms afterwards had made everything Ianto had been wallowing in for the past eight months melt away. His heart felt impossibly light and even as he thought how close he’d come to having this with Lisa, expecting the soul-crushing sadness to consume him, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of calm and love and _life_. Yes, he still loved Lisa, still missed her, but it didn’t ache like it had. Taking one final look at the picture on his phone, Ianto squared his shoulders and pushed into the living room only to be confronted by several bodies trying to manoeuver a large roll of carpet out through the dining room.

 

“What the bloody hell is going on?”

 

“Oh! Ianto!” Lisa grinned and came over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cool lips to his cheek. “Isn’t it wonderful? The floors are all made of hardwood! Just look at it.” She said, her face lighting up as she looked down at the floor. “A bit of polish and they’ll be perfect!”

 

Ianto shook his head, and felt the world tilt out from underneath him. “Right, no. Sorry.” He said, extricating himself from Lisa’s arms. “Out,” he said to the room at large. “All of you get out.”

 

“What?” Lisa turned on him, brown eyes narrowed.

 

“All of you get out now. I’m sorry, but I want you out of my house, get out!”

 

Several faces stopped and stared, looking from Lisa to Ianto and back again before a mumbled chorus of goodbyes seemed to rouse them from their stupor and they followed suit. Ianto moved over to the rolled up carpet and nudged it with his toe as he loosened his tie.

 

“Well,” Lisa began. “That was about as embarrassing as you can get. They were only trying to help.”

 

Ianto spun and looked at Lisa, his fists clenching and unclenching as he tried to calm himself. “Help? They’ve torn up my carpet, they’ve moved my furniture! Jesus Christ, they’ve even packed, unpacked and repacked my things! _My_ things. I can’t remember the last time I was able to have a bath in peace, let alone the last time I sat down with one of my dvds! I feel like a stranger in my own home – a home, I remind you, that you wanted nothing to do with originally and I’m sick of it!”

 

He slumped down the wall, knees to his chest as he looked at Lisa. “I was at the hospital today. Lucia had her baby and when it was all over, there I was sitting in a hospital room holding this tiny little life in my arms.” Ianto said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “God, Lis. She was just teeming with _Life_ and she was beautiful and I just… I thought to myself that this could be us. You, me and this baby could be ours but it can’t. Not anymore.” Tears streamed down Ianto’s cheeks and he gave Lisa a sad, tired smile. “That could never be us; maybe once, but not now, because you’re dead and I need to let you stay that way.”

 

Lisa smiled sadly and crawled up beside Ianto, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wrapping him in her arms. “There’s this woman… Donna and she’s lovely and very kind and she’s from Cheswick, or she was from Cheswick and well, she was knocked over and she died.”

 

“Knocked over?” Ianto asked, wiping his eyes with the edge of his shirt sleeve.

 

“Hmm, yes, that’s what I said. Anyway, Donna… perfectly lovely woman and anyway, she had this allotment she used to go out and visit with her grandad and he and a few of her friends did it up really nice, had a few benches put in and a couple of lovely big trees and had a plaque put on one of the benches, ‘In loving memory of Donna, granddaughter, friend and super-temp.’ and anyway, Donna goes back there a lot and she was telling me that for a long while her grandad’s grief was like yours, a big klaxon going off inside her head; following her wherever she went until eventually he was able to think about her without hurting quite so much and he’ll sit there and talk to her and tell her about his day… he makes sure he still keeps her with him even if it is just by honouring her memory.” Lisa finished speaking and looked at Ianto expectantly.

 

“So, you’re saying I should buy you a bench and plant you some trees?” Ianto smirked as Lisa rolled her eyes.

 

“No you idiot. I’m saying; you need to be able to honour my memory and our time together outside of the hurt and pain and anger you feel because I died.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “These few months have been great because you needed to be able to see what you were doing, not just to yourself but to the people around you.” She motioned around the house. “I didn’t even get to live here, Ianto and in your grief you turned it into a shrine to my memory. Donna’s grandad, Jonah’s mum, Andy’s mates… they all have these places they can go to remember, the park or the allotments or wherever it is Andy’s mates go – the pub I think – and they go and they remember and they smile and laugh and cry… but then they go home and they go back to living their lives. They aren’t forgotten but they’re not… held onto so tightly that people become blind to anything but their ghosts.

 

“You talk about this baby being so full of life, but you’re forgetting the most important part of that equation, Ianto Jones.” Lisa cupped his cheek. “So are you. But in order for you to remember that, you need to let me go.”

 

Ianto nodded sadly, he turned his head, pressing his lips to the centre of her palm. He closed his eyes as he took a deep, calming breath and he felt something change, as though all the swirling thoughts he’d been having for the last several months had finally settled. When he looked back up again, Lisa was gone and the Bond poster was returned to its place behind the piano, he let his gaze rove around the room and noticed for the first time – really noticed – how that the things that had been slowly disappearing from his home, had been the things that Lisa had left behind. He got up and made his way out to the kitchen, tripping over the carpet as he did so – he’d called John and ask if he could help him shift it, or maybe even Jack.

 

Thoughts of the American astronomer filled his head and Ianto felt his stomach do a lazy flip-flop. As he moved to the phone on the counter to dial Jack’s number, he noticed Lisa’s now-clean coffee mug, turned upside down in the drying rack, a tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth as he remembered the day he’d bought it for her, but that was all. Picking up the phone, he dialled Jack’s number.


End file.
